Champions: An Ounce of Prevention
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Third story in the Champions series: Boromir is growing stronger and seeking his purpose in his new life. He may find part of that purpose when he accompanies Megan and Elena to a horse farm for at-risk children.
1. Prologue: A Pound of Cure

Author's Note: Hello all! Here is the beginning of the third story in the _LOTR_ _Champions _series. I hadn't planned to introduce the character in the prologue for another few stories, but she insisted. I do need to warn you that while the main story is in the same vein as the previous two, the prologue is much darker, though not graphic. It contains reference to rape, murder, and vigilantism. Think the agency in the series _La Femme Nikita_, only on a smaller scale. As ever, Boromir of Gondor does not belong to me, nor do the other canon characters of _Lord of the Rings_; however, the various and sundry reincarnations do belong to me, as do the other individuals in the present time. I don't mind if you borrow my characters, but please ask first and return them to me intact and more or less unscathed.

Champions: An Ounce of Prevention

Prologue: A Pound of Cure

Las Vegas, Nevada. . .April 2006

She told herself from the beginning that even though this was a special case, she couldn't treat it as such. She would stick to the parameters; they were there for a reason. Even so, she felt more than just a vague satisfaction as the additive did its job. Moment by moment, his breathing became harsher, sweat poured down his face in rivulets, and he was quickly losing color. She smiled at him sweetly, asking in an equally sweet voice, "More iced tea?" He didn't answer, but a growing fear was obvious in his expression. Good. She said, opting to set aside the pretense, "You're most likely wondering why you're finding it hard to breathe. . .why your heart is racing. I put poison in your drink."

The man's lips moved as if he was trying to speak, but it wasn't necessary. She knew what he wanted to know. He wanted to know the exact same thing they always wanted to know. With a mocking smile, the woman asked, "Oh, you want to know why? How silly, of course you want to know why you have. . .oh. . .about ten minutes to live. Do you remember a little girl named 'Renata Blackwood,' about twelve years of age? Oh. I see you do. I should hope so. Did you really think that you would get off so easily?"

He was blinking back tears, but she felt no compassion for him. She told him as much, observing, "I won't waste any tears on you. If I had any tears left to cry, they would be for the little girl you raped, who can't quite figure out what she did wrong; or the parents who will never forgive themselves for failing to protect their baby. I can grieve, too, for the cops who tried to put you away. But not for you. You don't deserve my tears, or her tears for that matter. And you know, normally I do my job and then leave, but you? You're a special case. That little girl you raped is the same age as my daughter. And if it had been my daughter whom you raped, I would have had you drawn and quartered!"

Ah, there it was. . .the resignation which came from knowing it was over. There would be no rescue, no second chance. . .only whatever punishment the afterlife held for him. He now understood that she wasn't a cop, wasn't limited by the law. . .or by a conscience. The moment of complete, abject helplessness. . .to mirror the many moments of helplessness which Renata's parents experienced and would continue to experience. He was getting off lightly, really. She almost smiled. But while she was a killer, a murderess, she took no real pleasure in the ending of lives. She took no pleasure in the ending of this life, but she did take satisfaction. She whispered, "You will never rape another little girl. You will never cause her parents to weep and wonder why they failed to protect their child."

The light died from the man's eyes, and the woman never took her own eyes from him. When his chest ceased to rise again, she checked for a pulse. Nothing. Just to be thorough, she removed a pocket mirror from her purse, opened it, and held it close to his mouth. The mirror remained clear, and she snapped it closed. The world was rid of another rapist. . .better yet, a child-rapist. Now for the clean-up. She removed her cell phone, hit speed dial, and said when the other party picked up, "He's dead. Yes, I checked both his pulse and his breathing." There was a long silence while she listened to the other person, and then replied, "Doubtful, but I'll take extra precaution. What about the judge, or will we let the first line of defense take care of that?"

As she talked, she removed her barrette, allowing her hair to spill down her back. A professional woman entered the rapist's hotel room. . .a tourist would leave it. The skirt was removed, revealing the shorts underneath, and then she placed both the skirt and the jacket inside the tote bag folded up inside her purse. She was glad her daughter talked her into buying the bag. For the first time blinking back tears, she replied huskily to the most recent question, "No, I'm fine. I'll finish here, and then leave the hotel. I don't imagine so, but if you think it would be better to find a connection and leave from the other hotel, I certainly won't argue. Two weeks? That would be very welcome. All right. I'll see you then."

She flipped the phone closed, and dialed another number. On the second ring, her daughter's excited voice said, "Mom? You're already done?" For the first time, a true smile crossed her face and she agreed, drawing an excited squeal from the youngster as the girl continued, "Oh, that's awesome! I was afraid your business would take at least a few hours. So you're gonna come pick me up from Aunt Lila's, then we're gonna sightsee, right?" This time, she allowed herself a laugh. It would be so good to spend the rest of the day in her daughter's company.

It was the girl's Spring Break, which she was supposed to be spending with her father, but as usual, he let his daughter down. It was his loss. She told her daughter, "Absolutely. Have you decided where you want to start? Keep in mind, no casinos for at least another six years." Her daughter laughed with delight, which made her smile again, and she continued, "I'll be at Aunt Lila's in about thirty minutes. My business is wrapped up here. . .I have two weeks off, so what would you think about seeing your grandmother after we spend a few days here? Maybe even go to North Carolina and meet your grandfather?" The awed silence on the other end of the line was answer enough. Her little girl had been dying to meet her grandfather for ages, along with her aunts by blood. And it was long past time for her to meet her own sisters.

"OH YEAH! Sorry, Mom, but that would be great! Okay, Aunt Lila says she needs the phone back, so I'll hang up. . .love you, Mommy!" Charlotte Amalie 'Carey' Rafferty quietly hung up the cell phone, looked at her victim one last time, and then left the hotel room. It was mid-afternoon, so everyone was out seeing the city or gambling or doing other things she really didn't want to think about. However, she didn't believe in taking chances. Especially not if she and her daughter were flying out to North Carolina to see her father and his family. The oldest of her younger sisters was a police detective. . .and while she had never met Megan, the last thing she wanted to do was drag her younger sister into her world. Her sister was the prevention. . .and Carey held the cure.


	2. What I Can Be

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Just a few quick notes: for those just joining us, who haven't read the previous two stories, Michael is the name by which Boromir is known in the modern age, since he remembers nothing of his past. That leads me to the next point. . .he gets more of his memory back in this chapter. And, since a few months have passed since the end of the last story, he is now mobile and speaking English fluently. The title of this chapter is taken from the Nickelback song, _Savin' Me_, which is the song Michael and Megan are listening to when the chapter opens. This will actually be a shorter story than my previous offerings. . .I'm anticipating no more than five chapters. And finally, to my fellow Americans. . .HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!

Chapter One

What I Can Be

April 2006. . .the outskirts of Campbell, North Carolina

Even as the opening chords echoed through the car, he was leaning forward to turn up the volume. It was a small thing to do, but his companion often said small things meant a great deal. And he knew that this was one of her favorite songs, and it was quickly becoming his own favorite. Since they both liked it so much, neither would speak while it played. This earned him a smile from the woman in the driver's seat, though her troubled expression remained. While his English improved dramatically over the last few months, the amnesiac called 'Michael' still found that observing body language told him more than words. Yes, Meg was troubled, and though the sisters were close, it wasn't only because Kristin had returned to school. There was a third party involved.

At the beginning of the previous week, the pair learned they had an older sister. . .and at the end of the week, the aforementioned sister arrived. Her birth predated the meeting of Francis and Ailsa Rafferty by about two years, so it wasn't the result of Francis being unfaithful. Even so, Meg's world was rattled when she learned of their sister's existence and while she had Michael and Gavin, Kristin's presence helped her find common ground with the newcomer, a pretty brunette named 'Charlotte.' Charlotte, or 'Carey,' had a twelve-year-old daughter and a position as a consultant. Whatever a consultant did.

So far as the relationships between the sisters were concerned. . .Meg seemed to get along well with her new sister, and for himself, Michael thought Carey seemed pleasant enough, as did her young daughter Genevieve. However, he would admit that Carey unnerved him at first, with the way she looked at Meg. When he mentioned it to Gavin, his new friend observed that it wasn't so hard to understand. The sisters had just met, and Carey was actually behaving as if she was afraid Meg would disappear, and Carey wished to burn the memory of her sister's face into her mind as a way to remember her. Put that way, it made more sense. It still made him uncomfortable, however.

That wasn't taking into account the tension he noticed every time they returned to Meg's childhood home. Carey was born before Francis and Ailsa married, and it seemed clear to Michael that Ailsa didn't resent that part of her husband's past. But it was equally clear to him that she wasn't comfortable with her husband's daughter. . .on the other hand, she fussed over young Genevieve as if she was Ailsa's own grandchild. He asked Meg about that, and she admitted that there was something about Carey that unnerved her mother. She said nothing about being unnerved herself, but that proved nothing.

And there was nothing he could do, not about that. Each time he asked Meg what he could do, she just smiled and answered, 'just get better, Michael.' And he was. . .Michael grew stronger each day. In addition, although he still had to hunt for words on occasion, his command of English improved dramatically. The haunting images of the white city continued in his dreams, and with those images came others. But no one looked familiar, and Michael had enough to occupy him with just taking care of Meg, who was quite stubborn when it came to letting others take care of her.

However, she was not so stubborn that she didn't recognize a good idea when she heard one. In this case, the good idea came from Gavin, who noticed nearly six weeks earlier that Michael was getting bored, even with his reading comprehension growing in direct proportion to his command of English. They had tested his endurance first by taking him to a local school, where Meg and Elena read to the students. Rather than gather in the classroom, Michael was wheeled into the library, so more than one class could listen.

And rather than being afraid of a strange man, several children huddled around his wheelchair. . .and at least one sulked because she wasn't permitted to sit in Michael's lap. He noted the way Meg's lips quirked when she told the little girl, 'Don't break Michael, Lise.' Michael responded with an indignant glare, which lost all heat when she smiled and winked at him. Lise did as she was told, pulling up one of those hideously small chairs and sitting beside him, her tiny hand curled around his fingers. . .and his heart.

That was why he was accompanying Meg and Elena to a farm on the outskirts of town. To call it a 'farm' was something of an understatement. There were about fifteen buildings on the property, in addition to the main house and the stables. Its original purpose with the current owner was as a shelter for at-risk children. Michael, not familiar with the term, asked at what risk were these children. Gavin grimaced and explained that at-risk children either had no one to look after them. . .or the adults in their lives took no responsibility for the care of those children. Thus, they became at-risk for the darker side of life. . .facing jail time for misdemeanors and/or felonies, drug abuse, possibly even losing their own lives in the process. That was an over-simplification, Gavin admitted, but it was no less true. Over the last fifteen years, the farm evolved into an unofficial home for foundlings. The children ranged in age from a matter of weeks to eighteen. . .and often, when the children turned eighteen, they returned to their old home to assist in some way.

Several times during the year (once a month, if it could be arranged), Meg and Elena would drive out to the farm and spend as much of the day with the children as they could. It was, as Meg explained to him when she asked if he wanted to join them, an ounce of prevention. The children became familiar with at least two police officers, and if they ever found themselves in a position where they needed someone in the department, they could ask for at least two by name. And as they got older, they had a School Resource Officer, either from the police department or from the county sheriff's office.

"I hadn't realized you liked that song as well," Meg said unexpectedly as the last chords of the song died away. Michael blinked at her in surprise and she glanced away from the road just long enough to smile at him, explaining, "Don't look so surprised, Michael, I _am_ a cop, after all. If you don't like a song, or a tv show, or a movie, you sleep. . .at least, in the case of the song, you _pretend_ to sleep. On the other hand, if you _do_ like it, you don't say a word until the movie or song is over, or until there's a commercial. You turned up the stereo when the song started, and didn't say a word through all of it."

"I do like the song," Michael admitted, "that line about showing you what I can be, and the music. . .I. . .there's something about it, Meg." Argh, he utterly hated it when he couldn't say exactly what he was thinking! Meg had returned her attention back to the road as he began speaking, but he could still see her smile. It was the smile she wore when she understood what he was trying to say, even if he couldn't necessarily find the words. Michael was silent for several moments, then said, "Besides, it reminds me of you. You saved me, you thought I was _worth_ saving."

"There's no reason why I wouldn't think you're worth saving, Michael. The only question I ever had was if I. . .we. . .had the ability to take care of you the way you deserved. I mean, when you first got out of the hospital, I was your mother, for all intents and purposes. . .no smart remarks, please. But you were still very badly injured, you didn't speak a word of English, and we had to be careful about what you ate," Meg replied. Michael cringed as he remembered his first attempt at eating pizza. The food was heavenly, but his body's reaction was anything but. That was no longer an issue, fortunately. He really, _really_ liked pizza.

And thinking about it from that perspective, Meg's words about being his mother were true. Yes, she was close to a decade younger (she was thirty-two to his forty-one, or thereabouts), but in many ways, she had been his mother in those early weeks. She took care of him, started teaching him what he needed to know in his new life, and comforted him while he was sick or after he had another nightmare. Michael said at last, "Well, if nothing else, we've learned one thing." An eyebrow arched questioningly and Michael explained, "We've learned that when it comes time, you'll be an excellent mother."

Meg smiled ruefully and answered, "Thank you, but there's a big difference between being mother to a badly-injured amnesiac who doesn't speak a word of English and being mother to a child. A very. . .big. . .difference." He wasn't sure if she meant physically or mentally, but either way, Michael had to admit she was right. However, he would hold to his opinion. Whenever the time came for Meg to have a child, there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever. . .that child would be very lucky. The time for conversation ended as they pulled into the driveway of the horse farm.

As he had been informed on the way over, calling this a farm was. . .something of a misnomer. It looked more like the ranch on that show which Ailsa sometimes watched when she came over. . ._Phoenix_? He thought that was right. Maybe not. It had the name of a Southwestern city and was popular when Megan was a small girl. In any event, it resembled that ranch more than any farm he'd seen, even if ranches existed mostly in the western part of the country. At least, that was what Gavin told him.

Even before they reached the house, he counted at least five buildings. Off in the distance was another building. . .the stables, no doubt, if the horses gathered around it were any indication. And then, in front of them, was the house itself, with about fifteen children between the car and the house. These children ranged in age from fifteen to a year old, the older children holding the babies and toddlers. Meg drew the car to a stop, effectively parking it, and Michael reached over to turn off the CD. Neither of them had the chance to open the door, as the older children did that for them.

"Detective Meg! We didn't think you were coming until next week, but Detective Elena got here an hour ago, and said you were coming with your new friend Michael," the youngster opening Meg's door blurted out. He looked to be about thirteen or fourteen, and a quick glance at Meg before Michael got out of the car told him that she looked amused, rather than confused. The boy did that on a regular basis, then. She winked at him, and then turned her attention back to the child.

"Breath, Blue, breathe," Meg coached the boy, putting her free hand on his shoulder. The boy, who by rights should have been _turning_ blue, actually blushed, and said, "Yeah, we were talking about coming out on our day off next week, but realized something else was going on that day, so we rearranged the schedule. And yes, this is our friend Michael, who has been living with me while he recovers from being injured. Michael, this is 'Jacob Redmond,' also known as 'Jake,' 'Bluestreak,' or just 'Blue.' I think you can figure out where the 'Bluestreak' comes from."

This was said with a one-armed hug and an affectionate smile at the boy, who turned a shy, but brilliant smile, back to her. There was a saying Gavin used when his son Reece started talking in a rush, 'talking up a bluestreak.' No doubt the source of the youngling's nickname. And unless Michael missed his guess (which he didn't think he did), the boy was somewhat infatuated with the brunette. Meg continued, almost under her breath, "So Elena's already here. . .she did say she would be arriving early. All right, Blue. . .no, Tansy, don't ask Michael to pick you up, he's still recovering. Oh, don't even try the puppy dog eyes on me, little girl, I'm immune!"

Michael looked down at the pouting little girl and said gravely, "You should listen to her, little one, she's telling the truth. It never works when I try it on her." But as he spoke those words, 'little one,' Michael suddenly felt horribly dizzy, and he heard his own voice, as if hearing it down a long tunnel, rasping out, "They took the little ones!" His wounds flared to life, and Michael reached out to steady himself against the car. Through the roaring in his ears, he heard Meg calling his name, and though his limbs felt unusually heavy, he felt a small hand closing around his.

Michael shook himself, bringing himself back to the present, to find Meg staring at him anxiously. He had what Gavin called a 'flashback.' He hadn't had one of those in months. . .at least, not during waking hours. Meg asked again, "Michael? Are you all right? If you're not feeling well, I can drive back to the apartment, it won't be a problem." Michael gave himself a quick shake, and managed a weak smile for Meg. She continued to watch him cautiously and he released his grip on the car, taking a half-step away.

"I'm fine, Meg. I think I had a flashback, that's all," Michael replied. Meg relaxed, just a little, and smiled at the children reassuringly. Michael continued, "And thank you, Miss Tansy. . .for keeping me anchored here." The boy who went by 'Blue' watched him warily, and Michael explained, "I remember nothing of my past, save odd scraps of images. My only clear memories date back to waking in the hospital in Raleigh. But sometimes, a smell or a sound causes me to remember something else. That's what happened just now. But I'm all right now."

"Okay. . .but if you get to feeling badly, let me know," Meg replied, eyeing him. Michael inclined his head in agreement and Meg continued, "All right, kids. Any ideas about what we're doing today?" There was a cacophony as everyone tried to tell her at the same time what was going on, and Michael winced. Meg rolled her eyes, put two fingers into her mouth, and released an ear-piercing whistle. All chatter stopped and Meg sighed, "Thank you. . .okay, now, one at a time."

"Here's a better idea. . .c'mon inside," a new voice interrupted, sounding more than a little amused. Michael looked to his right, to see an older gentleman striding toward them. He was around the same age as Meg's father Francis. . .not that Michael was especially good at judging ages. He smiled at the small group, but offered his hand to Michael, saying, "You would have to be Michael. I'm Tobias Grayson. And no smart remarks about Scotland Yard, young lady. . . I've been hearing those my entire life!" This was directed at Meg, who just smirked. Michael, not surprisingly, felt lost.

Meg took pity on him, explaining, "You've heard Gavin and me talking about the fictional character, Sherlock Holmes, right?" Michael needed no time to acknowledge that, as Gavin read to him from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories during Michael's relapses. Satisfied, Meg continued, "Tobias Gregson is a member of Scotland Yard, and one of Inspector Lestrade's greatest annoyances. . .aside from Holmes himself. That's what this goofball meant." Ah. . .now that Michael thought about it, he remembered Inspector Gregson. The last story Gavin read to him was _The Empty House_, and for some reason, that story struck a chord with him.¹

"Goofball! Just who are you calling 'goofball,' brat!" Michael's most recent acquaintance demanded teasingly, winking at Michael as he did so. They often did this, then. . .like Meg, Kristin, Gavin, and Elena; except, of course, that Tobias Grayson wasn't related to Meg in any way, shape, or form. The man continued, "Come inside, you two, and we'll discuss what we'll be doing. Elena's already inside. Are you familiar with horses at all, Michael? If they're accompanied by an adult, the younger boys can go out to the stables and help the older boys."

Horses. . .and yet another memory was triggered. . . _He smiled sadly, staring down at an auburn-haired young man from atop a magnificent horse, and said softly, "Remember today, little brother." _Remember today, little brother. . .but remember what, exactly? Didn't matter, at least, not right now. Michael replied once he returned to himself, "Yes. . .yes, I'm familiar with horses. And I believe I would enjoy spending time in the stables." He was aware of Meg's worried gaze. She had noticed his blackout, even if the others had not. Michael smiled at her reassuringly, once again, but he knew Meg well enough to realize that she would always worry about him. It was just how she was made.

"Wonderful! In that case, come inside. . .lunch is almost ready. Michael, I hope you like sandwiches. . .it's getting too hot for warm food already," Tobias observed. Michael nodded, falling into step beside Meg. Yes, he liked sandwiches very much. Once he was strong enough to accompany her shopping on her days off, he began to learn more about the food of his new home. While pizza was his favorite, and probably would remain so, he learned the delights of pasta, hot dogs, shrimp dishes (especially shrimp scampi), hamburgers (with or without cheese), chicken (regardless of how it was prepared), and a new favorite with the warmer weather, submarine sandwiches. He was looking forward to whatever came next. . .

But wondered about the young man whom he had called 'little brother.'

BBBBBBBB

His memory was starting to come back. She didn't know which memories, but could recognize his expression when blocks of his past came back to him. . .that somewhat glazed, far-away look she saw in his eyes. Usually it didn't cause him to nearly collapse, and for that reason, Megan kept an eye on Michael as they headed inside. Michael looked around the old farmhouse with curious eyes, reminding Megan once again just how new everything seemed to him. . . new name, new country, new customs, the creation of new memories, and even a new language. She was so proud of him, even though she hadn't said so. . .but learning a new language, new customs, was damn impressive. Maybe she should tell him she was proud of him, even if he didn't understand why.

Toby's wife Leah was finishing up in the kitchen, with the couple's oldest daughter Skye feeding one of the babies. Elena sat in the chair beside the eighteen year old, holding a toddler in her own lap. The two friends exchanged a quick smile, before turning their collective attention to the child whom Elena was holding. The three year old boy was entranced with the class ring Elena wore on the third finger of her right hand, making repeated attempts to pull it, twist it, and generally make poor Elena as uncomfortable as possible. However, Elena only smiled at Megan's sympathetic look. . .she was, after all, used to it. Leah smiled and handed Meg a Coke. . .which was greatly appreciated, as it was already getting hot. Welcome to North Carolina in the spring.

"Michael likes sweet tea, Leah," Elena observed as Leah glanced questioningly at the man standing beside her husband. Megan bit back a smile as Michael glared at her best friend, his thoughts quite obvious from his expression. . .'Michael can speak for himself, thank you very much!' Elena looked sheepish and added, "Sorry, Michael, I'm still not used to you speaking English so well. You wouldn't know it, Leah, but he didn't speak a word of English when he left the hospital. And now. . .well, just listen to him!" Michael was alternating between glaring at Elena and blushing to the very roots of his hair.

It amused Megan to no end, but Elena was right. He had come so far just since the Christmas Festival. In fact, he greeted Mrs. Russell (Mrs. Leonie Russell) by name just last week, complete with a courtly half-bow, when they encountered her in the grocery store. The woman in question blushed and stammered out a greeting of her own. Megan hid her smile behind the grocery list and wondered what would have happened if Michael kissed her hand, as he did when he greeted women he truly liked.

"Sweet tea for you, honey. . .now, what can you do? Or is that what we're finding out today?" Leah asked. Michael accepted the sweet tea, looking more than a little lost. Megan nodded to Leah, and the older woman continued, "I'm betting that you'll spend some time in the stables with the older children and the little boys, but that usually doesn't take long. We'll find more things for you to do, but first, we eat. Skye, honey, is the baby ready for her nap?"

The teen glanced down into the baby's face and returned her attention to her mother, smiling faintly. She eased herself from the chair and whispered, "I'll take her to her crib." Skye made her way around the table, stopping beside both Elena and Megan, so the pair could see the little girl's continued improvement. They found the child, then a newborn, abandoned nearly six months earlier. The little one had a hospital stay while her small body recovered and the adults around her tried to make a decision. In the end, it was Mayor Farrell who suggested asking the Graysons if they would take her in.

The child's mother still hadn't reclaimed her little girl. Leah and Toby were more than a little cautious about the notion of adopting the munchkin. The last thing they needed was to start the adoption proceedings, only for the mother to show up and the judge give her custody of the child, simply because she was a blood relation. It happened to Leah and Toby in the past, and while neither of them worried about the monetary cost of such a thing, neither was prepared to have their hearts broken again. Megan didn't blame them.

She smiled as Skye stopped beside Michael as well. He peeked down into the little blanket a little warily. Skye smirked a little at Megan, who just returned a smile calmly. Her roommate evidently had little experience with small babies. That was to be expected, and she certainly wouldn't tease him about it. . .the only baby he saw on a semi-regular basis was Lacey, and that was only a few times a month. Neither of them had met the newest addition to Elena's family, her niece Nicola, who was born the previous week. Megan was getting over a spring cold, and she didn't want to infect the new mother or the newborn, especially not when her immune system was so. . .well. . . new. Maybe next week, once she was sure her cold was gone.

Once Skye was out of the room, Toby observed, "He'll spend some time with the kids in the stables, but you're right. That won't take such a long time. Maybe help me in the cellar?" Cellar? Megan cast her mind back, trying to remember hearing about a cellar in the past. No, nothing sounded familiar. . .not that this proved anything. However, a glance at Elena told her that her friend didn't remember hearing anything about this, either. Toby explained, "We found an old root cellar on the property about eight weeks ago during spring cleaning. It's on the outer perimeter, which is why we didn't find it earlier. We've spent almost all of our energy on the buildings by the house."

"Toby and the older boys have been cleaning up while we figure out what to do about it. Grass grew over the top of it, which is why we're just now finding it. So, we've been talking about using it as an emergency shelter for anyone who can't get to the house in time because of a storm. We've got a basement here in the house, and a shelter in each of the stables, but this is a good distance out," Leah added as she finished setting out the plates and items for lunch. It would be serve yourself, which was fine.

Megan nodded, fingers working automatically as she made lunch for both herself and Michael. Her brain had already gone on autopilot. Ever since a tornado destroyed a church just down the street from Captain Anders' home a few years earlier, she had made emergency planning a priority for the department, going so far as 'loaning out' officers and detectives if someone needed help with a shelter or a safe room. Her determination in turn infected Megan, who had done what she could to ensure people had safe places. Since she had assisted with the conversion of the basement at the community center into a shelter, she was a natural to assist others.

Before Bethany's murder back in November (had it really been five months already?), that project had been a key focus for her, aside from her normal duties and paperwork as a police detective. In fact, she had helped the Graysons clean up the basement, and arranged for Jason Wellington to look at it to make sure it would be safe as a sanctuary. And then, Bethany was murdered (tortured), and Megan's own life was turned inside out and upside down. But she couldn't complain too much, not when she and Elena got Michael out of the bargain, along with Ronan Daly. Michael himself was quite the bargain, as he took care of at least simple tasks while she was at work (but he wasn't to strain himself!).

Thoughts of the last few months also brought thoughts of her newly found older sister. And honestly, Megan wasn't entirely sure what to think about that. . .what to think about _her_. Charlotte Amalie Rafferty, named for the city in which she was conceived. _Ooh, let's not go there, Megan Penelope_, she warned herself, shuddering at the mental images that provoked. _Focus._ And so she did, she focused on the sister whose existence came to her attention just a few days earlier. Charlotte Amalie Rafferty, called 'Carey' for short, because her mother Monica didn't like any of the other nicknames for 'Charlotte.'

She was five years older than Megan at thirty-seven, had a business as a consultant, but was hesitant to explain exactly what her business was. Something that made Megan uncomfortable, even more uncomfortable than she was with the notion that she had a sister she hadn't known about for the first thirty-two years of her life. Thirty-two years lost to them, and they could never get those years back. She mourned those years, just as she mourned for the thirty-seven years that her sister and their father lost.

Because of Carey, Megan was now an aunt. All right, so she had been an aunt for twelve years, but she just learned of it within the last week. And yes, some of Elena's nieces and nephews called her 'Tia,' but that wasn't. . .that was different. She wasn't quite sure how it was different, just that it was. She was an aunt now. . .she had a twelve year old niece whose full name was 'Genevieve Monica,' but who was called 'Gemma' for short. It occurred to Megan, not for the first time, that she didn't know Gemma's last name, and not for the first time, she decided that it didn't matter. Gemma was her niece, and therefore, she was to be protected and loved.

And she would be. But right now, Megan's focus had to shift back to the children on this farm, because they had the Graysons and no one else. Gemma had her grandparents, her step-grandmother (?), her aunts, and her mother. For now, Megan could only make these children her focus. At the end of the day, when she and Michael left and returned first to the house where Megan grew up, then to their apartment, then Gemma could take center stage once more. But only then.

BBBBBBBB

¡_Dios mio, que lata_!² Discovering that you have a brother or sister should be a happy time, and there was no doubt in Elena's mind that under all the confusion and anxiety, Megan _was_ happy to have another sister. But that confusion and anxiety still existed, regardless of the other emotions. Elena understood that, and she kept her distance while Meg tried to re-establish her balance. It wasn't that hard, especially when Elena had a new niece to coo over and Meg had a bad cold. The two friends were able to talk, to some degree, while they were at the precinct and on the phone, or en route to a call.

When they were off-duty, Elena was either at home or at her brother's house, bonding with her new niece (as well as spending time with Angela, so the little girl wouldn't be jealous of her new baby sister). She still hadn't had the chance to go to the Rafferty home and see the pictures from the cruise, but according to Megan, she hadn't either. It wasn't just Kristin's return to college, or just Carey's arrival, or even Michael's ongoing recovery. With the arrival of spring in the Northern Hemisphere, the partners were busier than ever. . .and that wasn't taking the recent full moon into account. She didn't give a damn about statistical studies. . .people went absolutely _crazy_ during full moons!

Even Michael noticed how strangely people behaved during full moon period. Two weeks ago, before Nicola was born and before Carey arrived with Gemma (and that was a _really_ cute nickname), the five of them got together for pizza at a local pizza parlor. . . Elena, Megan, Michael, Kristin, and Gavin. . .and Michael observed that people seemed to act strangely. He had noticed the way people acted most of the time, and that certainly was not how they were acting now in most cases. He thought perhaps there was a holiday in which everyone behaved with marked discourtesy to others. All of this said, of course, with no hint of humor or even sarcasm.

They managed to stifle their laughter. . .after all, he had no way of knowing, nor did any of them want to hurt his feelings over a question that to him, seemed perfectly valid. And once they were certain they could respond without laughing, Kristin and Megan explained about full moons, how they seemed to take their toll on the medical and law enforcement professions in particular, while Elena threw in observances of her own about full moons she experienced in her summer jobs. Gavin had little to say for once, reminding them once again that he was a Marine, and explaining that contrary to popular belief, military personnel were among the most superstitious and the most sentimental of people, regardless of which branch of the service you were in.

Elena would agree with that, based on the military personnel she knew. . .she would also say that police officers and firefighters were right up there with them in terms of superstition and sentimentality. She was sure there was some psychological or sociological explanation for that, maybe even both. And whatever Michael was, whether he was soldier or not, he displayed that same attitude. Still, the fact that he had that same twin streak of superstition and sentimentality that Gavin possessed, that she and Megan possessed, led Elena to believe that Gavin was right when he asserted that Michael was a soldier. That still left the burning question of how Gavin knew Michael.

And he _did _know him. If nothing else, Megan and Elena knew that. The evidence in favor of that conclusion, while circumstantial, was overwhelming. Michael (or whatever his name really was) didn't remember his name, but Gavin knew him. The questions remaining were, how did he know him, what was that language they stopped speaking when Megan or Elena showed up, how and when did they meet, and where was Michael from? Oh, yes. . .and, if Gavin knew his real name, why he continued to call him 'Michael.' The same was true of Dr. Daly and of Megan's own father. To the best of Megan's knowledge, Gavin and Tio Francis had never met Dr. Daly before the retired physician's arrival in Campbell. . .yet they all had Michael in common.

Enough. She promised herself to focus on today's mission, not worry about Michael's origins. Her sister-in-law didn't understand why she worried so about Michael, since he was Megan's responsibility. Elena told her brother's wife to worry about her own family. Honestly, she had a brand new baby to fuss over, and a not-so-new baby to reassure. Elena's relationships with Megan and Michael were none of her business. And any conversation she had with her brother and his wife was strictly about the babies, so it wasn't as if she babbled nonstop about the situation with her best friend's family. On the contrary, if anything, she babbled nonstop about her newest niece, who was, without a doubt, the most adorable child ever born. . .and no, she wasn't in the least bit biased! Elena caught Captain Anders smiling almost indulgently at her whenever she mentioned Nicola at work, and her brothers and sisters in blue who were parents just smirked. That was okay. She expected that.

The bickering between Megan and Michael drew her attention back to the Grayson kitchen, and Elena bit back a smile, although just barely. As she guessed, Michael was fussing at Megan because she fixed his sandwich, and Megan was reminding him of all the times she fixed his lunch at her parents' home. Elena wasn't entirely sure what the correlation was, but she wasn't about to get in the middle of that. Especially not when Leah Grayson leaned over and whispered, "Do they always argue like an old married couple, or is this something new?"

"Relatively new. . .it just started when Michael decided to start asserting his independence. He usually isn't comfortable in a new place, so Meg has always taken care of making his lunch for him. As he grows more comfortable in a setting, he starts becoming more and more independent. For instance, at the apartment, he does Megan's and his own laundry," Elena explained. Especially now that he knew how to do it properly. . .the poor guy evidently had never used washing machines or dryers, wherever he came from, so he had to learn how to do that. Folding clothes was a much easier task for him. She thought briefly about telling Leah about the glances Michael sometimes stole at Megan, but decided against it. The town was still reeling from the fallout caused by Dorcas Merriweather's lies. . .the last thing the town, or her friends, needed was for the old biddy to have fuel for the fire. No. . .no, for now, she would keep that to herself.

She was actually happy for Megan. Michael was the first member of the opposite sex to really have any interest in her friend, and Elena had several boyfriends through high school and college. It was because of those relationships that she hoped against hope now that things worked out for them. Of course, that was assuming Michael didn't have a wife at home, and that he wasn't a murderer. . .but Elena didn't think he did, and didn't think he was. But they would work out what they could be. For now, they had an afternoon to spend helping the Graysons, and as ever, that promised to be interesting. As Michael settled down to eat his sandwich (and Elena noticed that he did eat it), Elena caught Megan's eye and winked at her. Megan just rolled her eyes, but smiled and gestured for Elena to go next while she talked to Leah.

Yeah, it was gonna be an interesting day.

¹In _The Empty House_, Sherlock Holmes 'returned' from the dead, causing poor Dr. Watson to faint from sheer shock when they met up again. It turned out that Holmes hadn't died in _The Final Problem_, but faked his death to throw Moriarty's group off his scent. Boromir didn't fake his own death, but I can see the story resonating with him (even though he would probably sympathize more with Dr. Watson). For those curious, no, the 2009 movie version will not be in this series, much as I loved it. . .I have _other_ plans for Robert Downey Jr (bwahahahaha!).

²'My God! What a mess!"


	3. Assertions of Independence

Author's Note: Okay, nobody faint in shock. I've been in a writing mood this week. Now, to my British readers, if you notice any goof-up in terms of phrases, PLEASE let me know! I counted myself fortunate to remember the British slang for the toilet. A particular member of the Fellowship makes his first appearance, and another one is mentioned by name. Let's see, any other warnings? Oh yeah. . .young cops being silly.

Chapter Two

Assertions of Independence

One of the first new phrases he learned in English (as opposed to words), was 'choose your battles.' Michael liked that phrase a great deal, as it seemed to be extremely wise. There were some battles you _could_ win, battles you _might_ win, and battles you absolutely could _not_ win, under any circumstances. And so long as final battles didn't fall into the last category, it was best not to fight the battles in this last category (and again, he didn't question how he knew this). It was a waste of time, energy, and resources.

Such was the case with Meg fixing his sandwich for him, and there were a variety of reasons. First and foremost, they were at someone else's house, an individual whom Michael didn't know. She knew he wasn't comfortable in a new situation, and thus, acted on his behalf until he was ready to do so. Secondly, her mind was on auto-pilot, as Gavin called it. . .her hands were working without her being aware of it. And finally, he _chose_ to lose this battle, because he liked watching Meg as she fixed his lunch. There was a curious satisfaction that he didn't quite understand. He would have to ask Gavin.

For now, he mulled over what Tobias Grayson told him about the jobs on this farm. He and his wife were ably assisted by their older children, and people who were called 'cottage parents.' Like too many other things, he didn't understand what that meant, although he guessed they were foster parents or babysitters. And something about foster parents seemed familiar to him, though he couldn't quite be sure what that something was. Another area where his accursed amnesia caused him no small amount of stress. He truly wasn't certain what caused him more stress. . .the whole chunks of memory missing or the blocks of memory which returned, and thus, provoked new questions. He still didn't know his true name, although 'Michael' was quite serviceable.

He knew that he had something to do with horses in his old life, and his instincts told him that he had been a soldier. That seemed a little bizarre, given what Meg, Kristy, and Elena told him about their world. Warriors on horses were called knights, and existed up until the early years of the previous century. He could not remember how he was injured so grievously, but based on what he had remembered in recent weeks, he was injured while protecting children. 'They took the little ones,' he had said, and while he could not remember name or face, 'little ones' generally referred to children. Since their journey to the school to read to the little ones in the community, Michael had discovered he quite liked children. . .most of the time. There were some who were irritating little brats, but for the most part, he liked children a great deal, and they seemed to like him as well. Michael had also learned that though he did like cats, rabbits, and guinea pigs, he still preferred the company of Nicodemus, the extraordinary hound whom he first met while in the hospital.

Meg told him on more than one occasion that she would love to have a dog, maybe when she had enough money to buy a house. She was usually sleepy when she told him about what she wanted. . .a house big enough for her, a child or three, a dog and a cat, and a backyard big enough for all of them. He asked her if a husband fit into her plans, and she would shrug, seeming almost childlike as she told him, _'if I can find someone. Men don't find me attractive, Michael. . .I'm not as pretty as Elena or Kristy. And my grandmother Sayre? She was absolutely gorgeous when she was a young woman_.'

Michael didn't ask, but wondered just what one thing had to do with the other. Meg may not have been stunningly beautiful (though he certainly thought she was lovely), but she was compassionate, strong-willed, bright, and thoughtful. Further, she had spent the last few months taking care of him, even when she was bone-weary after a very long day at work. If men thought she was lesser because she wasn't considered as fair of face as Elena or Kristin, then more fool they. And that reminded him. She noticed the conversation he and Gavin had in the language Gavin called 'Sindarin,' and though she hadn't yet called them on it, Michael wasn't so foolish as to think that she hadn't noticed. He would bet that night's dinner on her noticing. But she was trained as a cop, and she was still gathering information. Unfortunately, he couldn't provide her with the information she sought because while he knew the language, he couldn't tell her anything about the land in which it was spoken, or the people in that land.

He was distracted from his musings when Mistress Grayson teased Meg, "So, has your entire graduating class told you about the upcoming _Transformers_ movie? I do remember how much you loved that cartoon when you were a little girl. . .it was the only thing you ever asked me to turn on when I looked after you." At Michael's questioning glance, Mistress Grayson explained, "Megan's granny was out of town when Francis and Ailsa flew to Korea the first time, before they actually adopted Kristin, so Toby and I took care of Megan while they were away. It was during school, so they couldn't take her with them, and she couldn't accompany Sayre."

"And so, she stayed with you until her parents returned, sleeping at your home when she wasn't at school. Why could she not stay with her Uncle Daniel and Aunt Naomi?" Michael inquired, remembering what Francis Rafferty told him about the elder man's brother and sister-in-law. A sidelong glance at Meg revealed that she was smiling broadly, and there was more than a hint of pride in her eyes. For her own part, Mistress Grayson was smiling almost ruefully. Which meant there was an interesting story. . . perhaps one which Meg or Gavin would tell him later.

"They weren't available either. Long story there. Anyhow, Leah would come pick me up after school and we'd come back here. I'd watch cartoons while she made dinner, and then after dinner, I'd finish whatever homework I didn't get done in Study Hall. I'd offer to help her with dinner, but she always shooed me out, sometimes with a swat to my butt," Meg replied with a wry grin. Mistress Grayson laughed outright, eyes twinkling. Michael's companion went on, "And yes, Leah, I've been informed of the new movie, including the fact that Michael Bay will be directing it. I got a few Looks when I said it sounded good. I guess I wasn't supposed to like _Armageddon_, but I did."

"Oh, honey, you know some people think women don't like anything but chick flicks. Although I'm sure in your case, it was more a matter of, 'she's a cop, doesn't she see enough explosions and mayhem?' than anything else," Mistress Grayson laughed as she passed the tuna salad to her husband. Meg laughed outright, and Mistress Grayson added, "Now, Michael, since it's been brought up, it's only fair that I tell you stories about Meg when she was a child. Oh, stop blushing, Meggie, they're hardly embarrassing! You were always a cute little minx, and I'm sure Michael would enjoy hearing these stories!"

Elena piped up, reminding Michael that she was at the table, as she had been oddly quiet, "Oh, I think I'd enjoy hearing these stories as well. It's only fair, after the stories Meg heard about me when we were teenagers!" Meg dropped her head with a barely audible groan, and it was all Michael could do to keep from laughing aloud. It was rare that he saw Meg so discomfited, and for lack of a better word, she was incredibly. . .cute.

BBBBBBBB

_He was on his knees before the monsters, and they. . .both allies and enemies. . .knew he would not be gaining his feet again. He was done and now they would die. Sweat ran down his face and soaked his hair, giant branches of arrows sticking out of his torso. The cousins stared at their fallen friend, their protector, and rushed at his murderer, shrieking with rage. But it wasn't enough. They were swept into the arms of the monsters and carried away from their friend, screaming and reaching desperately out to him…_

Cameron Gillespie bolted upright in his bed, gasping in horror as the memory of that long-ago day pushed him into wakefulness. He hadn't had that nightmare in years, not since. . . Oh, of course. There were times when he thought Gimli was right, calling the Elf Prince a 'pointy-eared menace.' Cam's memories had awakened five years earlier, after meeting Legolas and Haldir after one of the concerts. Lance Tate and Haldane. . . Lorien, was it, or something along those lines.

And now, just hours after receiving an email from the aforementioned pointy-eared menace, he has a nightmare about that awful day. Cam grumbled under his breath, "Thanks ever so much for that, Legolas." And yet, he couldn't be angry, not really. How could he be angry when Legolas emailed him to tell him that Boromir had been found? Not Boromir's reincarnation, but Boromir _himself_. There was a great deal Legolas didn't/couldn't tell him yet, but for now, it was enough for him to know that Boromir was alive and had people looking after him.

Cam pushed himself out of bed and headed to the loo, running his hand through his hair exhaustedly. Damn nightmares. Damn Legolas. But even as he cursed the Elf, he was blessing him. Boromir. Alive. In North Carolina, of all places! As soon as he read that part of the email, Cam was looking through their tour schedule, to see if they were playing any venues in North Carolina. They were, and he marked all of the stops. Greensboro, Raleigh, Fayetteville, Charlotte, New Bern. . .hopefully, one of those stops were near Boromir's new home. Of course, it would help if his protectors liked bagpipe music, but if not, Cam would figure out a way to find his old friend.

Which reminded him. Legolas said that he didn't have Dev's email. Cam did. . .he would forward the email to him. He and Dev had never met in person, and while Cam closely resembled his pre-carnation, he had no idea if Dev did or not. Legolas, of course, hadn't changed a bit. . .nor had Haldir. No doubt Gandalf was the same as well. For some reason, though, Legolas never really talked about the Istari, and the one time Cam brought it up, Haldir quickly changed the subject. _Curiouser and curiouser_, to quote Lewis Carroll (at least, he thought it was Lewis Carroll who said it).

In any event, not all was well in Valinor. Oh well. Not his problem. Instead, Cam turned his attention back to the email he received. According to Legolas, there were three females taking care of Boromir. . .a pair of police detectives in their early thirties and the younger sister of one of the detectives, a pre-med student in her early twenties. Heh. All three of them were younger than Cam, who would be thirty-eight in a few months. Cam's smile disappeared as something occurred to him. He got his start in a much-smaller pipe band. . .one that often played at funerals for military personnel, police officers, and firefighters. That was _not_ how he wanted to meet Boromir again. _Well then_, he thought as he finished his business_, I suppose I need more information from the pointy-eared menace, so I can meet Boromir on more or less equal terms_.

After washing his hands, Cam headed wearily back to bed. He had another four hours before practice, so he could try to get more sleep. That would be the wisest course of action. . .he wasn't a boy any more, after all, and most of the concerts lasted until at least ten pm, and then they had to return to their hotel. _Besides_, he thought almost sadly, _I'm not Peregrine Took any more, either._ He somewhat wished for the return of that mischievous young Hobbit. . .for the innocence that marked the future (and eventual) Thain. But he was Cameron Gillespie now, a divorced bagpipe player in the early twenty-first century. He couldn't go back to whom he used to be. . .whether that was the idealistic boy who first left Scotland twenty years earlier or Pippin Took. . .no matter how much he might want to be. He settled back against his pillows and closed his eyes with a deep sigh.

He thought first about his fifteen-year-old daughter, Diana, who wanted to become an architect. Somehow, it wasn't surprising. Cam had an entire messenger bag full of house-pictures that his little girl had drawn. . .he would have loved to frame them or tape them, but his life really didn't lend itself well to that sort of thing. She was so damn smart, and he was incredibly proud of her. She used to be proud of him, too, though he wasn't sure about that any more. It wasn't just her age, though she certainly was reaching that age where she knew everything, and the adults around her knew nothing. No, there was also the matter of how rarely he saw her.

He had a few free days coming up. . .not enough to fly back to Scotland and see her at the home of his parents, but enough to write her a long letter telling her how proud he was of her and how very much he loved her. He would tell her about the cities he had seen in the United States and around the world, and what he could about rehearsals and performances. He had no idea if it would interest her, but Cam could think of no better way to tell his daughter how very much he loved her than to tell her how much he missed her.

With those plans made, he thought next of the other Walkers. Legolas and Gandalf had been in Valinor, of course, though Legolas often passed into the world of men. According to Legolas, he encountered Gimli in late nineteenth century Wales, and again after the Great War. During the aforementioned Great War, he also encountered Aragorn, at that time a young American named 'Dennison,' still very tall, still with raven hair, though in that life, his eyes were more blue than gray. Still, it amused Cam.

Frodo, he was told, was also an American in this life, a young college student. Merry, of course, was an Irish baggage screener. And Sam. . .no one was quite certain where Sam was. Eowyn, he learned from his Irish friend, was an Australian doctor with ANZAC. Fitting. Gimli was also Irish, now a retired doctor. The earth-delver was now delving into human bodies. Heh. Legolas made sure he included that, along with the comment that Gimli was the one who found and treated Boromir for his grievous wounds. Cam snorted and muttered under his breath, '_And he won't let any of us forget it_.'

That was the known fates of the Nine Walkers in this time, and some of their friends. As for their other allies and enemies, that remained to be seen. Lord Elrond, most likely, was still in Valinor, as were Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. There was the question of Faramir (dear Faramir), Lord Denethor (whom Pippin had forgiven as soon as his son did, because how could he hold a grudge against the poor Steward when his own son did not?), Eomer and Theoden. And what of their enemies? What of Grima Wormtongue, what of Saruman? Would the reunited Fellowship have to face them once more?

It didn't escape Cam's notice that for the first time since the end of the Third Age, the entire Fellowship was alive. And while he didn't know for certain that Sam was alive, he also didn't know that he was dead. Besides, his instincts told him that Sam was very much alive, thank you very much. In which case the Fellowship, long broken, would be reunited, and just in time to face some threat. A mundane threat was unlikely. He ignored the little voice inside his mind that asked, _why now, why not during the Second World War, when the Allies were fighting monsters of the modern age_?

Perhaps, though, the answer was simply because Hitler and those other monsters were men, rather than Istari or Maiar. If that was the case, he could live with that. His restless spirit started to quiet, allowing him to rest. Behind his eyes, a very old memory began to play out, and his lips curved into a smile. Two mischievous Hobbits, both still very young, learning to sword fight under the tutelage of their new friend, while the others in their group watched them. . .or something else. An accidental nick, then the two young Hobbits launched a mock-attack of their own, knocking their friend/teacher/protector over. He heard their friend's laughter, saw his green eyes filled with amusement and affection, and he murmured, "Oh, Boromir."

BBBBBBBB

Lunch with the Graysons, was, as ever, a lot of fun. Of course, half the fun was watching Megan's reactions to the stories being told. And none of them were embarrassing stories, as such, but they _were_ cute. Like the first time Meg saw a newborn colt (who was now an old horse, though not too old to be used as a horse for teaching new riders), or her attempts to explain to her classmates how the newly-married Leah Grayson was related to her (short version. . .a cousin on her maternal grandfather's side of the family, a fourth cousin or a first cousin, four times removed, however that went. In Elena's family, there were tios, tias, primos, primas, sobrinos and sobrinas, in addition to Mama, Papa, hijo, hija, hermana, hermano, abuela and abuelo. . .everything else was just icing).

Megan really hadn't changed all that much in the three years between her (initial) stay with the Graysons and the first day of their freshman year. Rephrase that. . .she didn't change at all, at least, not so far as her friend and partner could tell and not from the way the Graysons were describing her. Elena wasn't sure what she was expecting, since she heard stories from Megan's own parents about what she was like as a little girl, and even some stories from the late Señora Sayre. But this was different, because while Leah was family, in a roundabout way, it wasn't the same as Megan's mother or grandmother.

Michael, too, listened intently, though his expression swung back and forth between amused and pained. It didn't take a detective to figure the why of it. He was amused, of course, by the stories and by Megan's reaction to them. Her expressions would make anyone laugh. Just as obvious was the reason for his pain. . .he had no such memories to call upon. But he made no request to change the subject, a request that would have been honored by their hosts. Instead, he ate and listened and watched Megan's face. Oh yeah. If he didn't have it bad for her now, he'd get there eventually. Soon, Elena hoped. Of course, there was still the matter of Megan, and how she felt about Michael. Right now, she still saw him as, for lack of a better word, her 'child.' He was still someone to take care of, and to a lesser degree, guide.

As he grew stronger and more confident, that would change. He already started taking on responsibilities in the apartment, especially with the clothes and the dishes. Since he was mobile and strong enough to do certain things, he took care of loading the dishwasher and doing the clothes while Megan was at work. And when Mrs. Watkins wasn't feeling well, Michael also took Nico for a walk. The rest of the time, he read and used Megan's laptop to further his education. . .that was how Gavin put it, at least. Elena chose not to ask any further questions. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

After the Graysons finished their stories, the conversation turned next to what they would do today. They didn't work on the normal chores, except in the stable. That, as Elena understood, was a full-time job by itself. Michael would help the boys in the stable. . .if only in the form of adult supervision. Elena already volunteered to help with the cellar, as it was somewhat erroneously called. It was a shelter, and based on how it was described, Meg seemed certain that it was built in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century. She observed that her grandmother showed her pictures of the storm shelter on the family farm where she grew up in Oklahoma, and what they described sounded a great deal like that. However, it may not have been designed for shelter from storms.

Elena didn't ask the question this statement provoked in her mind, quietly promising herself that she would ask Megan about it later. If she remembered correctly, Tia Ailsa had said that she and Tio Francis had left Megan with Señora Sayre when they went to Korea the second time, this time to pick up Kristin and bring her home. During the weeks they were away, Señora Sayre had taken Megan to Oklahoma to finalize some paperwork regarding the family farm.

That could wait until later. Elena listened carefully as Toby outlined what they would be doing. First and foremost, they had to replace the door. . .it was only by incredible luck that no one had stepped on the mostly-rotted old door and found themselves within the shelter. Yet. That was the first thing. They were still working on cleaning it out, as the supplies put in there originally had long since gone bad. Megan made the suggestion, half in fun and full in earnest, that they buy a golf cart for patrolling the fences, as well as relaying supplies to the buildings further out. Toby responded that was what horses were for. Meg just rolled her eyes, but Elena heard Leah murmur something to the effect that she would look into that idea of purchasing a golf cart.

Through the rest of the meal, small talk dominated the table. Elena silently blessed their hosts for not mentioning Bethany's death, which continued to haunt both cops. Not as badly as when they first found the poor kid, months earlier, but it was still a tender subject with them both. . .probably would continue to be so for some time. All too soon, lunch was over and Michael was being led to the stable by several youngsters, including Blue. He cast a few helpless looks over his shoulder at Meg and Elena. Where Elena just smiled and waved at him, Meg just looked a little worried. In fact, her expression reminded her partner of her reaction when Kristin left for college the first time. Which was why she couldn't resist the impulse to lean over and whisper, "Don't worry about him, Mom, he'll be just fine." Meg shot her a glare that would have had half the guys in the precinct whimpering in fear, but Elena just grinned at her.

"Yes, he will. . .I know you're worried about him, honey, but you're absolutely doing the right thing," Leah said softly from Meg's other side. Ooops. No one else was supposed to hear that. Apparently, she needed to work on lowering her voice. Leah continued, "Now, while we were eating lunch, I had Todd saddle up a few horses, and he'll take you out to the hole in the ground." Elena winced. While she was certainly capable of riding, it really wasn't one of her favorite things to do. Leah continued, "Most of the cleaning supplies are already out there. . .our main concern is getting the door out to the site, and then installing it."

"Well, what kinds of transportation do you have? Do you have an tractors or even old cars that aren't safe for the road, as such, but can make it from point a to point b?" Megan inquired. Tractors? Oh, no. . .there was no way Elena was driving a tractor! She had a hard enough time with a fork truck while she was working at a local warehouse for a summer job. Her friend mused, "Then again, there's the possibility of looping the door to a horse somehow. Maybe tie a long rope to the door knob and attach it to the bridle of Todd's saddle? Or something?"

"You scare me sometimes," Elena told her companion bluntly. Megan just raised her eyebrows, pressing her hand to her heart, as if to say, '_who, me_?' Elena scowled at her, adding, "Yes, you! You scare me, especially when you come up with these ideas that are crazy enough to work! I'm the wild Latina, you're the quiet, demure Southern lady, I'm supposed to come up with crazy ideas, not you! It upsets the balance of the world, Megan!" Actually, Meg's idea was sound. . .but Elena had to give her a hard time.

"I don't know how crazy it is, I'll have to ask Todd if that'll work. We've done something similar, but I'm more worried about Elena. If that's going to be more trouble than it's worth, we can always jerry-rig something, I'm sure," Leah observed. Elena was still scowling at Megan, who was just smiling at her faintly. There was a brief pause, and then Leah added, "Besides, you're not a crazy or even wild Latina. And Meg could be a quiet Southern lady, but I'm not sure if I'd go so far as to call her 'demure.' Reserved, maybe, but not demure. Which brings me to your assignment, Meg. . .we could really use some help with the attic. I know you're not fond of enclosed spaces or of heights, but do you think you could manage it for a few hours at a time?"

"I only have a problem with heights if I can see the ground, and your attic isn't that small. Unless you want me in the insulation," Megan answered. Leah shook her head, laughing. Elena barely held back a shudder of her own. Granted, she was several inches taller, but just the idea of her friend trying to get in the small cubbyhole where the insulation was placed. Meg continued, "Then I'll be fine. So Michael is going with the boys, Elena is going with Todd to your cellar or whatever it's called. Who's going up with me?"

"I'm sending some of the younger girls with you. . .half with you, and the other half will be down here helping me bake cookies. And you know, I think it's something of a misnomer to call it a shelter. It looks like it was originally designed to be a basement of a house. . .maybe a rec room, except it never got that far," Leah explained. Like a family ran out of money? Depending on when it was built. . .well, Elena supposed it was possible that the underground room dated back to the Great Depression, or just before.

However, in the meantime. . . Elena couldn't help but ask, "Cookies? You're baking cookies? What kind of cookies?" Megan rolled her eyes, though her eyes brightened as well. Elena swatted her in the back of her head, glowering at her once again. It was a mock-glower, though. One thing was always true of the days they spent helping the Graysons. . .even though they were here as police officers, protectors of the community, while they were on the Grayson farm, they were allowed, and even encouraged, to be teenagers once again.

BBBBBBBB

Now that he was on his own, he was feeling more than a little nervous, especially as the children stared up at him. What in the name of all that was holy was he supposed to do now? Well, yes, Tobias Grayson was leading him toward the stable, and there was a little boy hanging onto each of his hands (and another two who were eyeing his legs rather suspiciously. . .Michael hoped neither took it into their heads to trip him up). He knew that Tobias wouldn't simply abandon him to his fate, but this was the first time he would be taking instruction from a stranger, and it was just a bit. . .jarring.

And yet, at the same time, it wasn't. He had done this before. . .perhaps not following a man to the stable, with little boys clinging to him, but he had followed a man he had only just met. He couldn't remember it, but felt in his soul that this was familiar. . .perhaps even right. And so, he was silent as he followed a good man to the stables, where he would help to clean it, clean the horses, feed them and whatever else needed to be done. There was at least one good thing about stables. . .sudden noises were generally avoided, for the sake of the horses. He was still embarrassed over his actions a few weeks earlier, when Meg was brewing a kettle of hot water for tea. When the hot water began whistling for Meg's attention. . .well, it was something he would really prefer to forget. And fortunately for him, Meg wasn't inclined to tease him. . .maybe because she was feeling miserable at the time? Either way, he would accept his good fortune. . .and try not to be so sodding skittish. It was really bad form, even for an amnesiac.

There were, he discovered, ten horses. According to Tobias, the littlest boys took the easiest and safest jobs, and things progressed from there. One of the little boys holding his hands tugged him to a magnificent stallion (that looked very much like the one in his flashback, if he really wanted to be honest with himself) and solemnly informed him that this was Jordy, after a character in a tv show called _Star Trek: The Next Generation_. Tobias explained that the horse was named so because one of the boys happened to notice the horse's eyes were rimmed with white, and the character wore a visor so he could see. The older man paused, grinning impishly, and said in a croaking voice, "Wonderful, the mind of a child is."

Michael, who had seen all six _Star Wars_ movies courtesy of Gavin, just barely kept from retorting, _'look this good, you will not, when nine hundred years old you are_.' Instead, he smiled and agreed. What was it with Meg's friends and quoting random movies? It wasn't just people her own age who did it, but even people who were fifteen and twenty years older than herself. Gavin said it was 'popular culture.' Yet another phrase which went into the 'whatever that means' category. Fortunately, that category was growing smaller with the passage of time, and as his English improved.

Then Tobias began speaking to the boys, and Michael gave the other man most of his attention. He really wasn't that much older than the amnesiac. . . middle to late forties, although he could have passed for younger. There was very little gray in his black hair, and his eyes were a fierce blue. . .in fact, his eyes were very similar to those of Francis and Gavin Rafferty. And like those two gentlemen, he was tall. . .somewhat taller than Michael. However, on the drive over, Meg told him that Tobias was actually from here in North Carolina, though he came from a port city in the southern part of the state, Wilmington. Leah, on the other hand, as he had learned, was from Campbell. . .in fact, she was related to Meg by way of Craig McFarlane, Meg's maternal grandfather.

And yet, Leah didn't resemble any member of the family with whom Michael was familiar. She was around the same age as her husband, and as tiny as he was tall, with soft brown eyes and dark brown hair. On second thought, he supposed she did look somewhat like Meg. Not enough to make it obvious they were related, however distantly, but there was a slight resemblance. . .enough to make Michael a little more relaxed with Leah Grayson. Actually, when he thought about it, she was tiny like Meg, and had a similar complexion to Elena's. So she reminded him of both ladies. That was reason enough to be more relaxed around her, he thought.

"Now, Michael," Tobias said, interrupting Michael's thoughts. The amnesiac blinked, before focusing on his host, who just smiled at him before continuing, "The boys know what they need to do, they've done it a hundred times before. All you need to do is keep an eye on them, and be ready in the event one of them asks for help. They aren't shy about asking for it. . .they've seen what happens when they try to do something themselves. The lesson was rather. . .painful. In any event, just keep an eye on them, you can do a walk 'round if you like, if it helps you stay awake. The older boys tell me that's the hardest part. . .staying awake when there's nothing to be done."

Remembering the last thing Meg had told him before they left the apartment, Michael queried, "Speaking of painful lessons, where do you keep the first aid kit?" That was something he and Gavin went over during one rainy afternoon when Meg was at work: what was in Meg's first aid kit at home. Tobias grinned at him, clapped him on his (good) shoulder, and nodded to something behind Michael. The newcomer glanced over his shoulder briefly, noted the location of the first aid kit, and then returned his attention to the homeowner. While the boys were doing their work, Michael would remove it from its position and look through what was available. As he learned from Gavin, some first aid kits were more comprehensive than others.

"Yeah, I can tell you've been living with Meggie for the last few months. Everything should be in there; we just restocked it again last week. If you see anything that you think we should have, there's a pad of paper and pencil inside the box. . .make a note of it, and let us know. There's a refrigerator in that corner over there, feel free to get something to drink. We keep it in here for our all-nighters. . ." Tobias said, and his voice trailed off. That wasn't what told Michael that there was someone behind him. No, it was the footfall, and the other man's eyes straying over Michael's shoulder, as well as his concerned expression. Then a heavy hand fell on Michael's (bad) shoulder, and he reacted accordingly. He grabbed the wrist belonging to the hand, found the pressure points, and squeezed. There was a muffled grunt of pain, and Tobias sighed, "You just had to try it, didn't you, Eli? Next time your sister tells you something, listen? You can let go of my brother-in-law, Michael."

Michael obliged. . .and once again, Tobias' expression warned him. But this time, he looked worried, rather than surprised. Michael was just starting to turn when 'Eli' gave him a hard shove, kicking at his legs at the same time. Michael gave himself just enough to make sure none of the children were in the line of fire, and then let half-remembered instincts take over. Rather than try to catch himself, Michael allowed himself to fall forward, grasp one of the timbers holding up the building, and using the momentum gained from Eli's shove and subsequent kick, swung around to face Eli. The smile the other man was wearing died a quick death. Michael returned the gesture, his smile feral rather than smug, and promptly tackled him to the ground.

Eli was so surprised by his response, it took Michael no time at all to pin him to the ground. He growled, "These boys are under my protection. What would have happened when you pushed me, had a small child been in front of me? I could have hurt that child. So listen to what I say, and heed my words. . .should you attack me again, I will not stop at merely pinning you. Am I understood?" The young man. . .for he could have been no more than twenty-five. . .swallowed hard and nodded. Michael stared hard into his eyes for a long moment, and when he was satisfied that the boy wouldn't try this again, released him and helped him to his feet. He inclined his head to Tobias and said, "My apologies; however, I don't believe I hurt him."

Tobias was just staring at him in shock, but the youngster called 'Blue' blurted out, "That was totally cool! Uncle Eli, Mom will be so mad at you, 'specially since Detective Meg said he's still getting better after nearly dying." The boy's eyes widened almost comically as something else occurred to him. He grinned impishly and added, "Oooh, Detective Meg's gonna be real mad at you, too! Madder than the time when you substituted that porno movie for the cartoon we were going to watch!" Michael flinched. He would not have wanted to see that! The youngster named 'Eli' looked ready to relieve his bladder at that prospect.

"Gavin said he used to be a soldier. . .I just wanted to see what he could do!" Eli practically squeaked. This time, it was Tobias who rolled his eyes, and Eli added more than a little defensively, "Besides, Leah always tells me not to do things. . .she has, ever since Mom and Dad died!"

_Perhaps she was doing so to keep you from doing something foolish_, Michael thought sardonically, _and perhaps you should listen to her_. Tobias responded with more than a hint of exasperation, "Well, if you would show a little sense, or, I don't know, listened to your sister, she wouldn't need to protect you from yourself. Michael, there's no need to apologize. . .he knows better than to do that, especially after being told someone is a former soldier. I should formally introduce you. This is my brother-in-law, Elias Redmond. Eli, this is Michael, who has been staying with Megan Rafferty while he recuperates from his injuries."

Redmond. Wasn't that Blue's surname? Michael glanced from Blue to Eli, and then back at Tobias, trying to figure out a way to ask the question. However, Blue rescued him by saying, "Technically, my mom is my aunt. . .my birth dad was her brother. . .but my birth parents died when I was six, so I went to live with Mom and Dad. And Uncle Eli was adopted by Grandma and Grandpa Redmond, 'cause his dad died and his mom wasn't real strong. Mom was in college by then. So that's something else that makes Mom and Detective Meg related."

Indeed. There was a brief silence as everyone tried to figure out what to do or say next, and then Tobias took control of the situation once more, saying, "Okay, boys, back to work you go. Michael, do you have any cuts or scrapes that need tending?" Before Michael had the chance to say anything, Blue was at his side, inspecting his hands. The youngster nodded to his father, and Tobias added, "Okay, Blue. . .then you handle that. Eli's coming with me to help clean the cellar or whatever that thing is. After you finish with his hands, Blue, show Michael how he can contact the house or anyone in the field. I would say 'good luck,' Michael, but somehow, I don't think you'll need it."

With that, he propelled his young brother-in-law out of the stable by kicking him in the rear (much to the amusement of the boys, regardless of their age), Eli protesting all the way. Michael again blinked as Blue trotted over to the first aid kit and pulled it down. That seemed to be a signal of some kind, for the other boys got back to work with whatever they were doing. When Blue returned, Michael was gently pushed to a bale of hay and Blue said softly, "This won't take long. . .I just gotta get the splinters outta your hand. That was wicked cool. And don't worry. . .Mom won't be mad at you, she'll be mad at Uncle Eli. Hey, do you think you can teach us to do things like that?"

"It depends on what your father says," Michael answered. The rest of his body was protesting his actions now, but he wasn't afraid of passing out. . .mainly because he was more sore than anything else. Besides, he knew Meg would pack him up and take him home if he did. And he didn't want to go back to the apartment. . .he wanted to be here. So, he sat quietly while Blue inspected his palms, removing any splinters he had, and carefully wrapping up the scrapes. . .and wondered just hard it would be to convince the Graysons to let him teach these boys (and maybe girls?) how to protect themselves.


	4. Laying the Groundwork

Author's Notes: And the streak continues, though it was slightly broken (only a day, though). Don't know what's fueling it, don't really care. . .I'm taking advantage of it while it lasts. I actually meant to post this yesterday, but didn't have it quite finished. I couldn't quite resist the temptation to throw in a few more bits of my childhood, in the form of the first movie I ever went to see. I'll tell you at the end of the chapter which one I mean (evil grin).¹

Chapter Three

Laying the Groundwork

Someone was playing _Sorcerer's Apprentice_. She would recognize that melody anywhere. Megan didn't know if Leah had popped in her DVD of _Fantasia_ or if someone had the Dukas piece on a CD, but even here, in the attic, she could hear the piece. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with it. It was one of Megan's favorite classical pieces (along with just about anything by Khachaturian, Halvorsen, Elgar, and Tchaikovsky). However, she had a habit of bobbing in time to the music, which wasn't a particularly bright thing to do while working in close quarters. She had already bumped her head twice. . .and would probably continue to do so while it played.

Leah had said she would be cleaning up the attic. That was actually not entirely true. What she was doing was loading boxes with old toys, books, clothes, and other items. As she finished loading each box, one of her little helpers would carry it downstairs, and another little helper would bring her a new box. Huh. Now that she thought about it, it did kinda remind her of the various brooms in _Fantasia_. Well, that explained why _Sorcerer's Apprentice_ was on. In any event, once she finished with a box, a little helper would carry it downstairs, and there, the box would be sorted into 'keep' and 'give away' piles. Usually, the second pile was the biggest, though twasn't necessarily so.

She had found some very interesting things while she was packing the boxes. Yes, most of it were things she would ordinarily find in an attic, but that made it no less interesting. There were records (the old vinyl ones she remembered from her own childhood), eight-track tapes (of which she had very vague memories), and an old VHS player. More than likely, that still worked. . .because if it didn't, it would be in Toby's workroom. And that was just the big stuff. There were other things that were a lot smaller. . .like crafts made in summer camp and Vacation Bible School.

The 'give-away' items would be delivered to whoever had need of them. One year, the Graysons gave very old toys to Dr. Wellington as chew toys for his dogs. . .toys that the children couldn't play with any longer. Others, stuffed animals which they no longer wanted were cleaned thoroughly and given to the police department, to be used to comfort traumatized children. She smiled a little at the irony inherent in the previous statement. Here were children who were abandoned or given to the Graysons, and they were giving up stuffed animals to children who were traumatized in car accidents or who lost their homes to a fire or survived some sort of disaster, natural or otherwise.

Children really were amazing little creatures. And these particularly children, even more so. Some of them were just now finding a good place with the Graysons. Megan wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but they weren't foster parents. . .they received no aid from the city or county government. Mayor Farrell confided in her just after the whole MBB debacle that there was actually more to the queen bee's fall from grace in town than simply her attack on Megan, Kristin and Elena. It wasn't that Megan really cared, but Mayor Farrell thought she deserved to know. Apparently, she was heard to say that it was a shame the Graysons took the children away from their real parents. Seriously? There was foot in mouth disease (which she had), and then there was just plain stupidity.

In any event, thanks to her mind-bogglingly stupid statements, those few disciples she had left after Christmas dropped her faster than a rock on an August afternoon. Megan didn't want to venture a guess as to what the woman thought she was doing, because she wasn't sure the woman was capable of thinking. Yes, she knew that was a cruel thing to say, but. . .it was also true. And of course, that was when an unexpected voice behind her observed, "You think on that any harder, and I'll start to see smoke coming out of your ears." Megan reared up as she looked over her shoulder, and swore as her head came into contact with a very hard surface. Leah winced, saying, "You know, ordinarily, I'd wash your mouth out with soap for that kind of language, but given the situation, I think I'll look the other way. . .especially since none of my kids are in the room right now."

"I'm not going to ask you how you knew those were curses, considering I wasn't swearing in English," Megan remarked, rubbing her poor, abused skull. Leah just grinned broadly and sat down beside Megan. The younger woman added, frowning slightly, "And just how did you know what I was thinking about? To the best of my knowledge, I wasn't talking to myself or even under my breath?"

"I don't suppose you'll accept the answer, '_because I'm a mommy_,' will you?" Leah asked and Megan shook her head with a grin. Leah sighed ruefully and continued, "Didn't think so, but figured it was worth a try. There's only been one thing that's been troubling you for the last few months. Well, two. One thing is the whole matter of Dalton Robeson, but you weren't swearing until you hit your head, so I knew that wasn't it." Megan couldn't help herself. . .she growled at the thought of the bastard who was trying to say he had been the victim of police brutality. It wasn't true, she knew it wasn't true, and in a way, that made it more maddening. Leah's hand closed over her own, drawing her attention back to the attic, and the other woman said, "So that left Dorcas Merriweather. Well, I _suppose_ it could have been your sister."

"No, Carey hasn't done anything to irritate me yet, though Kristin swears it's just a matter of time. She is an older sister, after all," Megan replied. Leah smirked at this, and Megan continued, "Although Mom is definitely not at ease with her. She. . .well, she's around Carey more than I am, and she's not comfortable with her. I remember before Carey and Gemma arrived, she was really excited about meeting them both. She's taken to Gemma, but Carey. . . there's something about her that unnerves Mom."

"What about Gavin?" Leah questioned. Megan frowned, wondering why Leah asked about her cousin, but thought about how he reacted to Carey. The truth was, like her mother, Gavin was around Carey more than Megan was. He still spent a few hours each day with Michael, sometimes when she was at work, sometimes when she was there. But he never really discussed Carey, and honestly, Megan was more concerned with Michael.

She said slowly, "Really? I don't know. He doesn't talk about her, and he's rarely at the house at the same time I am. . ." Megan's voice trailed off. Sometimes, the absence of a lead was a lead, in and of itself. She remembered an instructor telling her that once. In other words, leads weren't always obvious. She said slowly, "I should ask Gavin about that. It's not like him to avoid the house when he knows I'll be there, unless there's something he doesn't want me to know. I mean, _really_ doesn't want me to know."

Megan looked up at Leah, who was just staring at her compassionately, and said firmly, "But that can wait until later. I have work to do. Do you know how the others are doing?" For all her fretting about him (especially after his flashback earlier this afternoon), Megan really wasn't that worried about Michael. . .in this instance, she was more worried about Elena. Her friend really, really, really didn't like horses. She liked them well enough. . .as long as she didn't have to ride them.

Leah snorted and replied, "Well, they're working on getting the door attached to the horses' pommels. The trouble comes in with the length of the rope. If it's too short, the horses could end up hurting themselves and their riders. Making it too long and you run the risk of getting to the dug-out without the door, because a particularly sharp edge of a rock severed the rope about a mile back. You see the conundrum." Megan bobbed her head warily, not wanting to hit it. . .again. Leah's eyes took on a mischievous gleam as she added, "On the other hand, your Michael is doing an outstanding job."

Oh? Megan raised an eyebrow and scooted forward. Leah continued, leaning forward in a conspiratorial fashion, "You remember my baby brother, don't you?" Megan nodded, barely restraining her desire to roll her eyes. Leah went on, "Well. He decided to test Michael. . .and found himself on his butt out in the stables. Apparently, Gavin's theory that Michael is a soldier has some weight." That didn't surprise Megan. She was worried about Michael, even so, a worry that was eased when Leah added, "Oh, and don't worry about your boy Michael. . .the worst injury he suffered was scraping his hands. Now, it's time for you to take a break and come downstairs. The cookies are cooling." Oh, that was one offer Megan wasn't about to turn down!

BBBBBBBB

There was absolutely no doubt in Elena's mind that by the end of the week, the entire town would hear the story of how Leah Grayson's baby brother got owned by that cute young man staying with Megan Rafferty. Todd had already told her the story three times now, and it still made her laugh. Hm. That was probably why he kept telling her the story, especially after their repeated failure to get the door attached in any way, shape or form to the pommels of the saddles. He had finally requested permission to take the old pick-up truck, and Elena had to wonder why he hadn't done that in the first place.

Either way, they were currently bouncing along in the pick-up truck, with the door secured in the back. The window was down, allowing the wind to blow through her hair. That was the nice thing. What wasn't so nice was the rather distinct smell of cow manure. Oh yeah. . .yet more signs that they were in the middle of spring. Then she thought about how cold it had gotten this past winter (her car door locks froze? Seriously?), and decided spring was worth it. Besides, it was only for fifteen minutes, which was how long it took to reach the. . .well, whatever it was, and five minutes to remove the door from the back of the truck. And not a moment too soon, either.

It was with more than a little relief that they got right down to work, first by taking off the (now rotting) old door, then installing the new door. That was the easy part. The old (rotting) door was placed in the back, and the second part of their job began. Todd had mentioned during the drive over that this used to be the property of someone else, though he couldn't tell her who actually owned the property. It actually looked like someone had dug the foundation for a house and what they had been thinking was intended as a shelter was actually a basement. . .a big, roomy basement that was about the size of her living room and kitchen combined, with maybe half of the dining room thrown in for good measure. She swallowed hard as she looked around the underground structure. Well. This would prove to be an interesting challenge. Elena thought about the fun she, Kristy, Megan, and Michael could have had working on this.

_Hell_, she thought, _throw Gavin and even Carey into the mix, and we could have a ball! _The first thing they had done when they started working on the shelter was strategically place lanterns around the room. As Todd descended into the room, he turned on first one lantern, just enough light to make Elena a little more comfortable. It wasn't that she was afraid of the dark. . .but she really liked to have _some_ light on the subject, so that she could see where she was walking. As she reached the bottom, Todd was turning on the rest of the lanterns, and for the first time, she could see for herself just how huge it really was. Todd had told her. . .now she saw what he meant.

"Okay. . .so what do we do first?" she asked. It really was a nice looking room. After the cement was poured for the foundation, someone had the bright idea of putting in rocks to line the walls, giving more of a homey feel to it. They were, by her count, at least six feet underground. It was hard to say, especially when she was trying to figure out how much cement and how much was ground. Besides, there was the matter of the wooden slabs that created the ceiling. . .wooden slabs and metallic rods of some kind.

"Well, we've got people coming in later this week to install the electricity. Dad thinks it was built in the nineteen twenties, just before the stock market crash. The money ran out, and they fixed it up as best as they could. There's a door just over there, leads to a bathroom. Next week, they'll be working on the septic system. Our job today is to finish cleaning out the old supplies and take measurements to put up shelving, then around the end of May, we'll start stocking the shelter," Todd replied. Elena nodded her understanding and the boy continued, "For now, we're just making sure it's safe enough and clean enough for people to use it as a shelter. Dad is working on a way to secure it. I don't imagine I need to tell you about the meth labs."

Elena cringed and shook her head. Um, no. . .no, she was the last person he needed to tell about that. Between the meth labs, the gangs, and the worry about jihadist camps (after all, they were only a short distance from Fort Bragg and Pope Air Force Base), anyone who thought rural areas were untouched by modern problems didn't know what the hell they were talking about. Anywhere people lived, there would be 'modern' problems, though Elena was of the opinion that 'modern' problems were largely old issues in new guises. With that in mind, she asked, "Does he have any ideas about what kind of security measures he wants to use? I'm guessing not a lock as such. . .would kind of negate the purpose of having a shelter."

"Well, I'm not sure what he's doing yet. . .just that he wants to keep it low key. Part of security is people not knowing something is there, Dad says, and it makes sense, you know? If people don't know it's there, they can't cause problems. It helps that it is underground. It's just gonna look a little weird to have this flat door out in the middle of nowhere," Todd admitted. Elena wasn't so sure about that. Seeing abandoned cars alongside the road was a common thing, even someone being in a place they shouldn't be would hardly think twice about seeing a door out in the middle of nowhere. On the other hand, though. . .

"What about getting a long green mat and putting it on top of the door, to simulate grass? Anyone who looks would be able to tell that it's not grass, but most people don't bother looking close," she suggested and even in the dimly lit room, Elena saw Todd's eyes brighten. Elena smirked a little as she continued, "Good. That's another problem solved. Moving right along, then. . .have you decided about whether or not you'll make more rooms? 'Cause I gotta tell you, this is half the size of my entire place." Even as she was speaking, Elena was mentally halving the shelter. She knew there was a bathroom (a closet bathroom, really) that would be repaired, but they could make at least two rooms out of what was available, maybe even three.

"We may do that next year. Mom and Dad are already thinking about that, but until then, we'll just put sleeping bags and cots out here. I'm so glad you three came out today," Todd said. His voice changed, ever so slightly, and Elena flinched a little. He had a crush on her. Oh yeah. He was definitely checking out her butt earlier. Well, she was almost twice his age, and really didn't think she was cut out to be a cougar, much less with a kid who was still in high school. Now came the fun part. . .letting him down easy. At least his parents raised him as a gentleman. . .that was a plus.

BBBBBBBB

His task in the stables was much as it was described to him. After Blue finished wrapping his hands, the youngster went back to work, helping one of the younger boys with his particular task. Michael couldn't see what that was, and so, he settled back to watch the boys, smiling faintly. Even if some came to the family later, they still behaved like brothers, playfully shoving each other, teasing each other. Brothers, he was coming to understand (or maybe remember), were not just of blood, but of bond as well. He had only look at himself and Gavin to see that. . .or Gavin and his cousins. He was their brother in all but name and blood.

He felt sure that this was something he had known at some point. . .it felt right. He didn't like wording it in such a manner, but that was truly the best way of putting it. This felt to him like knowledge he once had, but lost with his memory. There was, he admitted to himself, quite a bit of that. Including the way Blue looked at Meg, heart in his eyes. He was infatuated with her, and Michael was quite certain that she realized this. She might still treat him as a younger brother, but Michael was certain that she did know. Perhaps it was for the best that she maintained that fiction. . .after all, in some respects, Meg was old enough to have a child of thirteen or fourteen. And if she gave him any encouragement whatsoever. . .no. No, Meg had done the right thing. Were he older. . .on the other hand, boys would be boys, especially when it came to women and girls.

His current companion, a boy of about five who answered to 'Dil,' informed him that just as Blue was infatuated with Meg (or, as he put it, 'has a crush on her'), his oldest brother Todd was similarly drawn to Elena. He asked Dil if any of the boys had a crush on Kristin, and carefully bit the inside of his cheek when the youngster produced a silly grin. Clearly, Dil was in such a situation. He was quickly informed that Kristin was the most beautiful girl in the world, and he was going to marry her when he grew up. Michael chose not to point out that Dil was a small boy. . .he had spent an entire day watching the _Star Wars_ movies with Gavin, and that 'star-crossed love affair' between Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala was still fresh in his mind. Michael shuddered at the way that particular mess was described.

He knew the term 'star-crossed,' and it didn't seem to fit when two people knew something was against the rules and did it any way. On the other hand, he did understand a lot more about the stray comments made by Meg, Elena, Kristin, and Gavin. He had laughed the previous night at dinner when Meg questioned Gavin about some items of hers had gone missing. His friend turned slightly pink, but waved his hand in a rather weak imitation of a Jedi Mind Trick, and replied, 'This is not the Gavin you're looking for.'² Both Carey and Gemma joined him in laughing helplessly, especially after Meg growled, "You're _not_ helping!"

A companionable silence fell between Dil and Michael, and a warm heaviness against his uninjured shoulder took its place. He glanced down and smiled to see Dil sound asleep. It might have been the time when he usually took a nap. Michael began to move him, but a sound caught his attention. . .one of the older boys saying something. He would have left it alone, but the next thing he heard was panicked whinnying. Frowning, Michael eased himself from Dil's grasp and lay the child down, calling to the boys, "What is it, what has happened?"

"I _told_ him to let the vet take a look at his paw! He's just going to irritate it," one of the boys responded. Michael rose to his feet, not liking the sound of this situation at all. He approached the boys and the horse, carefully shooing the youngsters away. Michael didn't even bother correcting his terminology. . .that was for the boy's father. Instead, he focused on calming the frightened and pained horse, gently stroking his mane and murmuring soothing nonsense. It didn't matter what you said, or even in which language, only the tone in which you said it.

Over his shoulder, he told the boys, "One of you run inside and get a member of your family, I care not which one. . .I have some knowledge of this, but I will need another adult to hold the horse for me. Now, go and be quick about it!" He didn't bother to look around to see if someone was following his instructions. Rather, he was much more focused on the poor horse with the sore hoof. He knelt before the horse, trying not to wonder how he would know anything about it. It didn't matter right now how he knew. It only mattered that he could help the poor thing. Sensing someone drawing close, "Stay back, there's a good lad. . .he's frightened and in pain, and doesn't realize how easily he could hurt you. I don't want to run that risk."

There was the shuffle of feet as someone backed away and Michael kept up his soothing litany, calming the still-frightened horse. Those images from before were returning, but he pushed those out of his mind. There wasn't room for whatever his past entailed in this stable right now. His only focus could be on the horse. Further, there was no doubt in his mind that the horse was picking up on the fear emanating from the boys, so he observed in a calm voice, "He'll be all right, lads. . .and it's highly unlikely that any of you hurt him. Does anyone know when the last time he was ridden?" He rubbed his thumb gently over the poor animal's hoof. He didn't seem to be ridden often, but it was hard to say. . .especially when he had just met the family today.

"Early this morning. Our oldest daughter took out for a ride, but didn't mention a limp. And she, of all of our kids, would know best," came the response as Tobias Grayson joined him in the stall. Michael sensed that the other man wanted him to move over, and so he did. The patriarch continued, "Oh, yeah, he'll be fine. It isn't a stone, it's an abscess. Dylan, if you could bring me the animal first aid kit and the rubber boot, we'll get this taken care of. Oh, and just so you know, Michael, nearly the entire household has heard about Eli." Heard about. . .oh. In spite of himself, Michael felt himself blushing to the very roots of his hair.

"I thought you were heading out to help with the shelter, along with Eli," Michael replied. His host chuckled softly as Dylan/Dil returned with the case in question along with a strange looking boot. The amnesiac fell silent, not wishing to distract Tobias while he was caring for the horse. The mixing of the solution took just a few minutes ('solution' was a word he had just learned a few days earlier, and as ever, was taking a great deal of pleasure in using it in the proper manner).

"I got distracted in the house. . .that reminds me, boys. Mom has cookies ready for you. Take a break, head inside, and don't forget to wash your hands," Tobias told the youngsters. Not surprisingly, there was a small stampede as the boys headed out of the stables and for the house. Michael barely bit back a smile at the cheering he heard from the youngsters, and Tobias continued, "You lot have been working out here for close to two hours. It was time for a break anyhow. Elena and my oldest, Todd, took the pick-up out to the shelter, along with the door. We couldn't figure out a way to get the door attached to two of the horses, but nothing was worked. I prefer not to use the pick up. . .it's almost twenty years old, which is pretty old for a car. . .but it was our best choice under the circumstances. Anyhow, they're out there now, measuring for shelves, and cleaning out the old supplies. Fortunately, when the original builders laid the foundation, they also put cement stairs down as well." He paused in what he was doing, looked straight at Michael and asked, "How did you know what to look for?"

"I am not certain," Michael admitted, "I just knew. The knowledge was there, even if I have no memory of how I came to have that knowledge. The same way I knew how to fend off Eli when he came after me earlier. The knowledge was there. . .the moves and how to execute them. I have some memories of what went before, but some of them don't make sense. Meg has said not to force it. . .any of it. . .that I would remember when my mind and my body was ready to remember." He almost told Tobias the rest of it. About the White City he saw in his dreams, and about his little brother. . .how the red-haired young man seemed to be dressed in what Meg called 'medieval' style. Almost. But where Michael could handle compassion (which shone from the other man's eyes), he could not tolerate pity.

Tobias was silent for several moments as he tended to the horse, then said, "I know you're not asking me, but I think she's right. We have no way to know what trauma your body has endured. . .yeah, Meg told me about your injuries. Even so, there's a reason you can't remember things. You almost died, Michael. From what Meg says, you should have died. I don't think your mind or your body is ready to remember everything yet."

"Ronan seems to agree. I see him several times a week. He eats lunch with Gavin and myself if he has no prior commitments," Michael answered. Tobias grinned, understanding exactly what he meant. Ronan was, as the girls put it, 'seeing' Dr. Trask, the local coroner. It wasn't anything official, Elena told him, they hadn't been on a date yet (emphasis on 'yet,' she added, winking at him). Even so, he knew that Ronan was very attracted to the very pretty coroner. And Meg's mother Ailsa certainly seemed pleased about the possibility of romance between her friend and the retired doctor.

"Well, this little lad will be all right for now. Let's head inside and get some cookies of our own, then. The stables are clean enough, so after we have our break, we'll take cookies up to Todd and Elena, assuming they haven't already come back. Although, maybe I should call Dr. Daly, see if you're even allowed to ride yet," Tobias observed, stroking the mane of the horse, then holding out his free hand out to Michael to help him up. Michael accepted the help gladly. They did a quick check of the stables, make sure nothing was left vulnerable (the last thing anyone wanted was damage to the structure or the horses), and once he was on his feet, the pair left the stables.

Within just a few minutes, they were back at the house, where they found several giggling children munching on cookies. And at the table of the kitchen, Meg and Leah Grayson sat opposite each other, themselves munching on cookies and laughing. Meg looked up and smiled, waving at Michael. He smiled back, resting his hand on her shoulder briefly as he walked over to wash his hands. Leah patted the chair beside her, saying, "Sit down, take a load off, and enjoy your cookies. You, too, Michael."

"Come to the dark side," Meg said dryly, "we have cookies, along with the best Disney movies of the last forty years. This includes the Disney version of _Robin Hood_, which I still have to show you, Michael." She squeaked as Tobias poked her on the way to the sink. Michael grinned, handing the towel off to his companion, then sat down beside Meg, who continued, "Chocolate chip cookies. . .and no, Michael, she didn't know that they were your favorite." Michael briefly thought about sticking his tongue out at her, the way Kristin did when she was annoyed with her older sister, but decided against it.

"Although I'm glad to find that out. . .I'll make another batch to send home with you two. The pony okay?" Leah asked. Pony? Michael frowned. He had thought this was a young colt, not a pony. Tobias rolled his eyes, and Leah shoved at her husband as he sat down, adding, "Don't mind me, Michael, I call all small horses 'ponies,' even when they're colts. I know better, but it's fun to get a rise out of my husband." Michael wondered briefly at the twitch of Meg's lips. . .but he didn't wonder long.

"If you want to get a rise out of me, darlin,' I can think of better ways to do it," Tobias replied, smirking. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Oh. That was what he meant. Michael flushed, just a little bit, having received an education in innuendo from Gavin. Well, more than just innuendo, but that was beside the point. Besides, it was Leah's turn to roll her eyes, as she once more shoved her husband. This time, however, he fell out of his chair with an exaggerated 'ow.'

"Children, children, don't make me separate you two," Meg sighed. She shook her head and looked at Michael, adding, "Honestly, do you blame me for coming here? I can't take these two anywhere!" The married couple laughed uproariously, making it that much harder for Tobias to get up off the ground. . . at least until Michael extended his hand to the other man. Meg warned, now sounding dead serious, "Toby, don't even think about pulling him out of the chair! Leah, you were telling me before the boys got in about how you were going to stock the shelter."

Tobias grimaced at Meg, an expression that was turned to his wife when she smacked him in the back of his head. Leah just snickered at him, then replied, "Yeah, for now, we're treating that. . .whatever you want to call it. . .we're treating it as a camping site. We'll be putting in cots and sleeping bags, maybe even tents. . .not because for shelter, but for privacy. Of course, there will also be at least one first aid kit and enough food for three people for seventy-two hours."

"Good to know. And that's probably smart, to use the camping route, especially if there are small children in the room," Meg observed. Michael hadn't thought of that, but he could see their point. Then a wicked grin crossed her face, the only warning any of them received before she added, "I imagine it would be a good getaway place for Mom and Dad, too." Leah shrieked and threw a chunk of cookie at Meg, drawing a laugh. This time, it was Tobias and Michael who rolled their eyes. Even so, Michael was more amused than anything else. . .it was good to see Meg so light-hearted.

¹The Disney version of _Robin Hood_, which was released in 1973. I saw it in 1974, at the local drive-in theater in Indiana with my mother and two brothers. The irony is, that same weekend, my father was seeing the same movie in Germany at the theater on base. I watched the movie again last October and it has stood the test of time.

²This was something my four year old niece said, while trying to play hide and seek with her siblings. Her dad saw her hiding and called to her. My niece waved her hand and said, 'This is not the Sabi you're looking for.'


	5. Around Town

Author's Note: And here we have chapter four, which involves things that one would really not want to see while driving around town (much less have a grandchild see), Boromir learning about amusement parks, and seeing Megan and Elena in a mock-argument (to say nothing of the fact that he doesn't like even mock-arguments). I apologize for not responding to reviews. . .it was a busy week, and I haven't been feeling well for most of it. I'll try to catch up. The next chapter will either be the last chapter or the second to last chapter. Footnotes are at the bottom. . .hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four

Around Town

_Well. . .fiddle-faddle_!

It was two pm when she finally finished paying the bills, and Ailsa McFarlane Rafferty was about to call her older daughter at the police station when she remembered that Megan was off today, working at Leah's farm. She bit her lower lip and decided instead to ask her granddaughter if she would like to go shopping. Gemma's mother was out with Francis, seeing the town where the Rafferty family lived for the last thirty-five years. And while Gemma expressed an interest in seeing the town, she was still asleep when her mother and grandfather left.

Gemma's mother. She had to stop thinking of the brunette in such a way. It would end up slipping out when she least expected it, and it would hurt Francis. That was not acceptable to her. He was so happy, having his daughter here, when they had lost so many years together. And as uncomfortable as Carey's obfuscating made her (see, it wasn't so hard, saying her name), Ailsa couldn't deny that she was happy to be here, with the father who was kept from her and the sisters she never had the chance to know. Then there was Gemma, whose nickname had been chosen well. Genevieve Monica, whose mother had eschewed the usual nicknames for 'Genevieve' and chose 'Gemma' instead. If nothing else, she and Carey agreed on that. . .the child was a little jewel.

That jewel was currently sitting in front of the tv, watching a cartoon that looked vaguely familiar. Ailsa barely bit back a smile. . .Gemma sat in her aunt Megan's favorite chair, legs draped over the side of the chair, and looked up at Ailsa with a smile as she approached. Ailsa smiled back, saying, "You know, that's your Aunt Megan's favorite chair. . .and she used to sit like that, too. Still does, if she's tired enough." That made Gemma's smile grow bigger, and Ailsa ruffled her hair. For the first time, she took note of what Gemma was watching: the animated version of _The Lion, the Witch, and The Wardrobe_. She forgot they had that. Most likely, it found its way to the top of the pile after Megan, Kristin, and Elena went to see the recent live-action version after Christmas, while Gavin stayed with Michael. Ailsa smiled, adding, "And this is one of your aunt's favorite movies." Gemma's eyes widened, and Ailsa knelt beside her, saying softly, "Oh yes. She was six when she saw it, and begged us to get it for her birthday. Aunt Megan _never_ begged us."

Gemma smiled and replied, "She wouldn't. That was something Mom said on the first night we stayed here, when I asked her what she thought about Aunt Meg and Aunt Kris. She said that Aunt Meg wasn't the type of person to beg and nag about something she wanted." Ailsa smiled in spite of her growing unease with her stepdaughter. For some reason, Carey's understanding of Megan eased her mind, rather than worried her. Even if Carey continued to evade questions about what she did for a living, here was another piece of common ground for them. Gemma went on, "She said that it was kinda funny that Aunt Meg became a cop, because all she really wants is to be left alone."

"Well, there are different kinds of being left alone, honey," Ailsa observed, "your aunt just doesn't want people prying into things that don't concern them. It's not impossible to want to help people, and want to be left alone." Gemma nodded, though she still looked a bit bewildered. Ailsa quickly changed the subject, saying, "Well, why don't we watch the rest of this movie, and then we'll head into town? I grew up here. . .there are places here that I know about that your grandfather doesn't."

"That would be sick!" Gemma responded, and Ailsa mentally thanked everyone she knew with a teenager who made her aware of the new lingo. Gemma asked hesitantly, "Gramma? We can leave now. I was just thinking I'd like to watch this with everybody. Aunt Meg said last night that she and Michael might come over after they're done on that farm. We can go ahead and leave now." Ailsa agreed. . . the movie was near the beginning, and they could start it over when they got back. In short order, the VCR was turned off, and they were out the door. Ailsa inhaled happily. Oh, she did love spring!

Francis had taken their Tahoe when he and Carey left earlier (Francis mentioned something about getting groceries), but that was fine. Ailsa had her car as well. And she was quietly pleased when Gemma blurted out, "Gramma! That's _cute_!" Ailsa just beamed at the girl, immensely grateful that she had the car serviced just the week before. Her canary-yellow 1964 Volkswagen Bug was not impressive, but it was a cute little car, in very good condition, and it got her where she was going.

"We bought that a few years ago. Of course, the first words out of your Aunt Megan's mouth were, '_that's Bumblebee_.' On the rare occasion when she drives it, she jokes about looking for the Autobot symbol," Ailsa said as she unlocked the door for her granddaughter. Too late, she wondered if Gemma even knew what she was talking about. After all, the cartoon in question was almost twenty-five years ago, and the only reason Kristin knew about it was because her older sister showed her the tapes when she was old enough to view them. However, she had nothing to worry about.

"It could be worse, Gramma. . .you could have gotten a huge, red and blue semi truck!" Gemma giggled. Ailsa cringed. Gavin threatened them with that one year. She still didn't know if he was joking or serious. Gemma continued, "Mom rented one of the DVD's, 'cause she likes cartoons, too, then went back to the beginning. Aunt Megan says that the original is the best. I think she's right."

Oh joy. Another _Transformers fanatic_. Oh, well, she could be a _Star Wars _fiend. . .or _Star Trek_. Ailsa shuddered as she backed out of the driveway and headed toward downtown Campbell. It was those two series that she didn't like, rather than science fiction in general. She actually preferred Westerns, but she could understand why her girls liked science fiction. She even watched _Firefly_ a few years ago with her girls, as it was that most rare beast: a show that successfully melded science fiction and Westerns. However, all of this faded when she saw something _very_ strange. Coming up behind her, and passing, was a bright red pick-up truck. However, what made her do a double-take (and then a triple-take) was what was in the bed of that truck: a blow-up doll. An anatomically correct, nude blow-up doll reclining in a chaise lounge (or maybe bound to it. . .ew, brain bleach, brain bleach!).¹ Under normal circumstances, it would have never occurred to her to say what passed her lips. But she was in shock; she and Francis watched Steve Irwin after they went to bed the previous night, and his oft-repeated expletive seemed the most appropriate under the circumstances. She managed to exchange a stunned glance with Gemma before breathing, "Crikey!"

Or maybe not so appropriate. Gemma said into the silence that followed as the pick-up turned into a parking lot, "Gramma? You so totally did _not _just say that." Ailsa looked at her granddaughter, shook her head, and the girl added, "You know, I see a lot of strange things where I live, but that was strange even for me!" Ailsa nodded. Yes, that was strange. . .and she hoped that none of the MBB's didn't see that, much less get his license plate number, because they would report it. It wasn't the driver she worried about. . .but Lydia Anders had enough to deal with, much less adding this to it!

BBBBBBBB

At the Grayson farm, they wouldn't hear about the naked blow-up doll for several hours. And when they did, Toby Grayson would be a laughing fool (well, a little more than he usually was). Right now, they were busy munching on chocolate chip cookies, and as soon as Leah discovered that those were Michael's favorite kind of cookies, she set aside a few handfuls to send home with them. Dil was sitting in Michael's lap when he began hesitantly, "There was something mentioned, and I wished to know if you had any objections." Megan discreetly kicked Toby under the table, and he growled at her, but gave Michael his complete attention.

Megan smiled and nodded at him encouragingly. Michael smiled back, and said, "Dil thought after I. . .handled your younger brother, I should teach your children how to defend themselves. I wished to speak with you first. . .and apologize to you, Mistress Leah, if I hurt your brother." Even before he finished speaking, though, Leah was shaking her head. . .not in the negative, though she knew Leah would reassure Michael of that herself. If anything, she was negating any harm the brat took.

"No. . .do _not_ apologize, not for that. My little brother needed to be taken a peg or three, and you did a wonderful job of that. Self-defense. . .you know, Toby, I think that's a pretty good idea. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, Michael, or anything particularly organized. Just something that the kids can use if they're in a situation. Meg and the others can't be everywhere, something our dear Council forgets on a regular basis. If you can teach them to distract or disable someone who attacks them, that would be great!" Leah said with a broad grin. Michael's hesitant smile grew wider, and Megan quietly added him to Leah's ever-growing number of conquests. Her friend had a number of men in town, aside from her husband, wrapped around her little pinky finger, and it bothered Megan not at all that Michael joined that illustrious group. Especially since her father was also a member, as was her cousin.

"She's right. Our cops are pretty damn good about rapid response time, but unless they're the next street over, it's gonna take them time to get there. . .and even if they're only minutes away, our kids need to know what to do when seconds count. So, even if what you teach them buys them time, then we'll consider it a success. Way I hear it, though, you're still gaining in strength, so give yourself a few more weeks before you start your lessons. And we want you to teach all of the kids, maybe a half hour with a given group," Toby observed.

"It works better in smaller groups. One on one is preferable, but small groups are excellent as well. Large groups are sometimes necessary, but not in this situation, especially not with the age range of your children," Michael commented. Again, Megan wondered how he knew all this. It wasn't really important, but she was growing more and more curious about her roommate, and what he was truly capable of doing. However, she wouldn't ask Michael. . .it only upset him when he didn't remember things.

"Does that mean I can do it, too?" Dil asked and Michael smiled down at him. He had come far, just in the last few weeks. She could remember when he wasn't especially comfortable with small children. Although, that might change. Dil bounced in Michael's lap as her roommate nodded his agreement, and Megan winced. Michael flinched, ever so slightly, but it was noticeable enough to someone who lived with him. Dil evidently noticed as well, for he said in a small voice, "Sorry."

"Be careful, baby, he's still a little broke," Leah cautioned her youngest, before answering, "And yes, Michael has said he'll teach you, too. Ahhh, Michael. . . one other thing. Don't be surprised if my baby brother asks if he can take lessons as well. It'll be just before you start those lessons, while his pride recovers, but he _will_ ask you."

Heh. Megan would _love _to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. However, there was no doubt in her mind that Michael would agree to take him. Her faith in him was borne out a moment later a few minutes later, as Michael answered, "He'll need to leave his pride at the door. I. . ." He froze for a moment, eyes growing unfocused. Leah started to rise to her feet, but Megan shook her head quickly. He was remembering something, and it was best to let him come out of it alone. And if he couldn't come out on his own, she could help him. But the memory lasted only a moment, and then he blinked and smiled at her ruefully. She relaxed, and Michael apologized, "I am sorry. . .there are times when I, as Gavin puts it, zone out. Usually, I have remembered something, but cannot quite remember what I remember. I know, that makes no sense, but it is the best way I have to explain it." _You'd be surprised how much sense it makes,_ Megan thought, _and you're still learning English. Give yourself time._

Anything she might have said, however, was lost as Todd and Elena came back into the house, and Megan could hear the bickering all the way into the kitchen. Elena was going back and forth between Spanish and English, sometimes in the same sentence, while Todd (who didn't speak a word of Spanish) was responding to what she said in English. Toby shook his head, grinning ruefully, and that rueful grin turned into a bark of laughter when the bickering pair reached the kitchen. It was then that Elena saw the cookies in front of Michael and reached over to snatch one. . .only to have Michael smack her hand.

Megan grinned at her roommate and told him, "Good boy, Dex." This drew looks of confusion from their hosts, and Megan explained, "Last night, after we got home from dinner, my cousin brought a movie over, _Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow_. That line was in there quite often, something that the pilot said to his inventor friend. Go wash your hands, Elena, then get your own danged cookie." That drew a giggle from Leah, a snort of laughter from Toby, and an eye roll from her best friend. Megan just smiled sweetly at Elena. Oh, it was such fun, winding her up!

"Besa mi nalga²," Elena retorted, slapping her hindquarters. . .but she did shuffle over to the sink, muttering under her breath, "My bruises have bruises, and muscles I didn't even know I have ache." Megan just smirked at Michael, and Elena added, "I do have eyes in the back of my head, you know. At least, that's what our kids say." It was Leah's turn to smirk, as Elena sat down between her and Megan. For the second time, Elena tried to sneak a cookie. . .this time from Megan, and again, got her hand smacked. This time, Elena yelped and glared at Megan.

"Oh, for. . .'Lena! Sheesh! Quit tryin' to steal other peoples' cookies! That is so not cool! Just. . .don't start whining about cooties, okay, that would be too surreal!" Megan retorted. Michael looked at her and Elena uncertainly, but did nothing aside from eating his cookie. Megan paused long enough to smile at him reassuringly, then added, "Don't make me tell Tia Soledad. You know how she gets when you're behaving like a child. Remember when I teased you about changing diapers and you responded with. . .your unusual salute?" Elena stuck her tongue out in response.

"It's okay, honey," Leah said, reaching across the table to take Michael's hand, "they do this ever so often. They're just being silly. I suppose because they're safe to be silly here. Don't have to worry about taking care of other people, or people getting' the wrong idea. They can just be Meggie and Elena. Not police detectives, not older sisters, not even daughters. . .just two friends cuttin' up and bein' silly. They need that ever so often." She squeezed his hand again, before releasing it and sitting back.

"How do you think we teach the kids to trust us? It isn't just about them being familiar with us, though it helps. They learn to trust us by seeing us as ourselves, whether we're being serious, sad, silly, or even bitchy," Elena added, growing serious. Megan nodded her agreement. Elena cast her a sidelong look, offered an almost evil grin, and added, "Like when Megan decides to be a tattletale." Megan just raised her eyebrows. Really? They would just have to see about that! She offered an equally evil smile, causing her friend to swallow hard.

BBBBBBBB

One of these days, he would learn not to worry so much. It was only. . .both Meg and Elena were the closest he had to a family. Meg, Elena, Kristin, Gavin, and Meg and Kristin's parents. He was growing more and more familiar with their quirks, but he had never seen them behave in this way. After Elena explained it, too, he understood exactly what they were doing and why. It just. . .made him uncomfortable, as if the ground beneath his feet was no longer solid. He wouldn't ask them to stop. They had been friends for over twenty years, long before he came into their lives, and as the conversation turned to other things, they were both much more relaxed and far less tense than they had been in recent weeks. No. No, he would acclimate himself to it.

He returned his attention to the table, where conversation was centered around something called 'Carowinds.' Meg caught his eye and smiled at him reassuringly once again, as if she realized the mock-argument she had with Elena confused him. That, he had to admit, made him feel better. When there was a lull in the conversation, Meg told him, "Michael, Carowinds is an amusement park in the southern part of the state." Amusement park? She took in his obvious confusion and noted, "You've never heard of amusement parks. Uhm. . .how do I explain this, guys?"

"Very simply. Michael, amusement parks are just big parks, some the size of a small city, where people go to have fun. You remember when we went to the Renaissance Faire in Raleigh?" Elena asked. Michael nodded. Oh yes, he remembered it well. It seemed so familiar to him, yet so wrong at the same time. Some of the costumes, especially, seemed familiar, but at the same time, there was so much that was unfamiliar-not just the food, though Meg, Elena, and Kristin seemed to enjoy it. Elena continued, "An amusement park is a lot like that, but with rides, along with food and games. It's also a venue for concerts, and. . . You have no idea what I mean about rides, do you?" This time, Michael shook his head and Elena sighed, "Okay, I seriously need some help here. . . oh! Okay. Michael, you watch tv, right, and you see commercials. Okay. You've seen the commercials for Disney World, right? That is an amusement park, the granddaddy of them all in some ways. Carowinds is like Disney World, but a lot smaller. The other ones that are relatively nearby are Kings Dominion and Busch Gardens. You've seen those on TV, 'cause Busch Garden is close to Colonial Williamsburg. We should take you one of these days."

"Uh. . .actually, 'Lena, I think we should hold off on that. I think it would be smarter to take him to a county fair first, then maybe the State Fair, and then one of the amusement parks. Let him get used to a county fair before we expose him to those madhouses," Meg observed. Elena smirked and Meg sighed, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Elena. Really, you can do better than that, I've heard you. Anyhow, most of the county fairs take place in late August or early September. Emphasis on 'most,' so that'll give Michael plenty of time to shore up his strength."

"You spoil all my fun, Meggie!" Elena mock-whined, but then continued more seriously, "Okay, you're right, at least about that. There are also the carnivals that are held in the parking lots of shopping centers. We may want to start with those, then go to the county fairs, the State Fair, and then, finally the amusement parks. Although, my suggestion would be to start with Busch Gardens among the parks, if only for the layout." Meg nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, I'm glad that's settled. Michael, you're in for a treat when they take you to one of the carnivals. But I want to hear more about the self-defense lessons you plan to give the kids. Have you ever trained people before?" Tobias Grayson asked, sounding just a touch impatient. Michael winced. How, exactly, did he tell this man, this father, that he was certain he had trained fighters in the past, but he couldn't remember the particulars? It sounded foolish, even to him. However, before he could respond, Tobias groaned and shook his head, adding, "Sorry, Michael, forgot you had amnesia."

"We're fairly certain that he was a soldier in the past," Meg observed, "although we couldn't tell you what branch or which country." And that, he knew, troubled her. It troubled him, as well, though for different reasons. By now, he knew there were several ways of reaching a destination. . .including the cars he still didn't like, though he could tolerate them. But there were also boats and ships; flying machines called 'airplanes; trains, which resembled one of the bullets in Meg's revolver. Thus, there were many ways he could have arrived in the country as a whole and North Carolina specifically. The trouble, once again, was that he didn't remember how he got here. He would almost say he hated the amnesia, but he was afraid of what he might find when his memory returned. There was that show which Meg watched sometimes. . .he forgot what it was called, but the last episode had an amnesiac like himself, who turned out to be a killer.³ He feared learning something similar about himself, and yet, he knew he couldn't spend his entire life in ignorance of himself and his past.

A gentle hand covering his brought his attention back to the present, and he looked up to see Elena staring at him with concern. He managed a smile for her, and his friend relaxed. A glance around the table told him that this was not the first attempt to get his attention, and his smile turned apologetic. Elena squeezed his hand, but it was Leah Grayson who said rather briskly, "Well, I think we should figure out who should do what. The attic can be managed by one of the older girls now. . .most of the fragile items have been removed for sorting. Toby, what's the status on the barn?"

"Just about done in there, as well. I figured that was the case when the boys said they were checking the horses' hooves. Michael was a huge help there, but that's something I need to do myself. Didn't check the loft, but I'm not as concerned about that. It's another thing I can do and would prefer to do myself. And that leaves the cellar. You got the measurements, Todd, or did you spend the whole time checking out Elena's figure?" Tobias asked. There was an indignant squawk from his son, while Elena exchanged a grin with Meg.

Since Todd seemed incapable of responding, aside from incoherent sputtering, Elena replied with a laugh, "We got the measurements, and on another sheet of notepaper, I wrote down a list of suggestions of things Todd didn't mention for supplies. He mentioned there was a bathroom off the main room that would be in service. He didn't say if there were any rolls of toilet paper, hand towels, or soap on the list, so I put those suggestions on there. Also, if you want to go the camping route. . .putting camping supplies down there. . .you might think about equipping it with a portable shower."

"We've been talking about that, 'Lena, along with expanding it. We'll also be putting a wicker box for the hand towels, which will be old ones from the house," Leah answered. With a glance toward Michael, she observed, "We want to put the living necessities in first, and then we'll do the comfort items. One problem at a time. Whatever you don't get done today, the Scouts or Brendan Farrell will do the next time he's available. I teased him the last time he was here that he should charge for his services. He just blushed and muttered that his grandmother would never let him hear the end of it."

Tobias snorted and replied, "Knowing Miss Jean, she probably wouldn't. She has no compunction whatsoever about grabbing the mayor by the ear if she thinks he's being disrespectful. Not that he would be, but it's the principle of the thing." Both Meg and Elena laughed at that. Michael cringed. Having met Mrs. Regine Farrell, he could easily believe she would do just that. As kindly and gentle as she often was, Michael learned the hard way that it was such women who were the most dangerous when angered. He just counted himself fortunate that her ire was not directed at him.

"Awww, but she's such a _sweet_ lady," Elena cooed. Yes, she was, but she could also be terrifying if she was angry. What was it that man said on the tv where he turned into a huge green monster when he became angry? Oh yes, _'please don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry_.' That seemed strangely appropriate under the circumstances, even if Mrs. Farrell was unlikely to turn into that green monster. . .or any other kind of monster, come to that.

"Sweet and scary," Tobias corrected, "sweet and scary." Meg and Elena exchanged a glance, then turned twin smiles to the other man. He muttered under his breath, "Speaking of sweet and scary. . ." Leah and the two detectives erupted into hysterical giggles, as did the little boy in Michael's lap, and Tobias just sighed, shaking his head. Even so, Michael couldn't help his own smile. The more time he spent with these people, the happier he was to help them, in even such a small way.

_Footnotes:_

¹This incident actually happened about a month ago in the general area of Raleigh. A man and his young son were driving down the road, and there was a naked blow-up doll in a passing car. However, the 'crikey' exchange was courtesy of a fellow member of the Gwethil. (blows kiss) Thanks again, love!

²You probably figured it out, but it's 'kiss my butt' in Spanish.

³The tv show Boromir referenced was _Las Vegas_, the episode was _The Strange Life of Bob_, a blood-stained amnesiac who wandered into the Montecito Resort and Casino. Bob was played by Christian Kane, of _Angel_ and _Leverage_.


	6. Parent and Child

Author's Notes: Well, then. . .it took a little longer than I anticipated, thanks to a thoroughly unpleasant headache (dad-blasted hormones and heat). But this is the second to the last chapter, the epilogue (along with an updated cast list) will follow in a few days. I'm heading down to Georgia next weekend-my youngest niece is turning five; her older brother just turned eleven, and one of her older sisters will be turning twelve, so we're having a party for all three of them. Oh, and then my eldest nephew turns twenty-six three days after my niece's twelfth birthday. In the next story, Michael continues to gain strength and makes a decision about the town where he currently resides. The plan right now is, the story after that involves the Wellington family and Sauron's first strike against the modern-day Fellowship. And now, on with the chapter!

Chapter Five

Parent and Child

Michael had expected them to return to work after finishing the cookies, as Tobias said they would. And according to what he was told later, they had every intention of doing just that. However, as they headed out, some with the pick-up truck and some on foot, one of the children tackled another. . .and the next thing he knew, a huge game of tag began. The idea of 'tag' was a relatively new one to him, and he had never actually seen it played (unless it was part of that past which he couldn't remember).

When he mentioned this to Meg, she smiled at him and responded, "Oh, I'm sure you have seen it played. . .maybe not quite like this, but a variation of it. It's one of the simplest and most fun games a kid can play. But we'll stay out of the way and just let you watch. . .some of those kids are stronger than they look, and when they're trying to tag you, they may end up tackling you instead." She offered him a mischievous smile, the one she often wore while she was teasing Gavin.

"I don't think I would want to be tackled," Michael admitted. He had seen people being tackled while he was watching football. It looked bloody painful, and while he had largely healed from his injuries, he wasn't sure he wanted to put it to the test by being tackled by a dozen youngsters. Meg shook her head, and returned her attention to the game. Both winced a half second later when, as Meg predicted, several of the children tackled Tobias to the ground, the latter yelping in surprise. Meg laughed quietly. Michael half-accused, half-teased, "You enjoyed that."

"Of course I did. Toby. . .Toby's a lot like Gavin. He's several years older, but I see a lot of similarities between them. Yes, they're both tall men with black hair and blue eyes, but there are a lot of other similarities between them. . .not the least of which, they both like driving me crazy," Meg observed. Michael could hardly argue with that. . .especially with regards to Gavin. His friend did take a particular enjoyment in annoying his cousin. Considering Meg's occupation, that wasn't a particularly bright thing to do.

He said as much to Meg, who snorted and replied, "Yeah, I'm a cop, but Gavin is a trained Marine. I know that doesn't mean anything to you, not right now, but there's a saying about our Marines. You'll find no better friend. . .and no worse enemies." She tilted her head to one side in a considering manner, a mischievous smile once more appearing, and added, "That being said, Gavin's taught me a few tricks, and so have some of his brother Marines. I'm not sure if I could take him down. . .in fact, I seriously doubt it. . .but I could make him real sorry he made the attempt."

"More than likely, Elena would finish the job on your behalf," Michael observed, cringing a little as the young lady in question made a sprawling dive toward Tobias Grayson's legs. He winced in full when her tackle proved effective, slamming the man to the ground. . .again. Michael gave Meg a sidelong look, adding, "Of course, if for some reason, Elena was unable to finish what you started, I would be more than happy to step in for her." Meg's grin was positively evil.

"Like, for instance, if she hurt herself while playing tag with someone. . .several someones, in fact. . .who are half her age?" she asked, waggling her brows impishly. Michael bit back another laugh, and Meg continued, "I know. And I do thank you for it. Just. . .wait until you're a little stronger. I'd say you're at seventy-five percent right now, and I'd really feel better if you were at least ninety percent before you started defending my honor. . .or my body, for that matter."

"I fear that if I tried to defend your honor right now, we would both die," Michael stated, somewhat baldly. Meg didn't argue. The two were quiet for several moments, watching the game with amusement. Michael recalled a conversation he had with Gavin, back when his English was much rougher than it was now, and asked curiously, "What is your favorite sport, Meg?" His companion looked up at him with a confused look, and he explained, "I remember when football was concluding that Gavin said it wasn't your favorite sport, even though you'd watch it. . .what is your favorite sport?"

"It's ice hockey. . .I know, we need to take you to a 'Canes game. We need to watch a game from the house first. There are a lot of people at a professional game, of just about any sport, and the building is damn disorienting. Maybe we should start you out smaller, like at a FireAntz game. . .it's only semi-professional, and not as many people attend those games," Meg replied. He only inclined his head, having only the barest understanding of what she was talking about. There was evidently a difference between professional and semi-professional, but that difference remained to be seen. He had thought he was doing a decent job of hiding his confusion, until Meg smiled at him ruefully, saying, "I'm sorry, that made no sense, did it?"

"A great deal of things make no sense to me, Meg. That is. . .you are hardly to blame for that," he replied, then laughed as one of the little girls bolted away from her siblings with a shriek, throwing herself into Meg's arms. The child's momentum had both staggering back, Meg giggling along with the little girl. The oldest boy, Todd, approached the two, fingers waggling in a very familiar manner. . .he intended to launch a tickle attack, something Michael had seen many times between the sisters.

Some imp seized Michael's soul at that moment, and he stepped between the young man and the two, declaring, "You will not take another step toward them, you blackguard!" Meg giggled at that as well, and Todd's eyes widened. . .then, when Michael winked at him, a smile curved his young features. Behind him, he heard the little girl whispering to Meg, and the police detective answering that Michael was protecting them from the evil Todd. That won her another giggle, as well as a barely audible, '_that's funny_.'

"I'll get you, my pretty. . .you and your little girl, too!" Todd squeaked in a high-pitched voice. Oh, please. . .Michael knew very little about things in his new home, but even he knew where _that _came from! He gave the boy a decidedly unimpressed look. . .especially when Elena snuck up behind him, grabbed the back of his belt and yanked up. However, he wasn't about to allow that opportunity to go to waste. As Todd squeaked and struggled, Michael launched a tickle attack of his own. . .

. . .And tried to block out the memory that flashed through his own mind in that moment, of himself in a similar position as young Todd, with two laughing faces above his own.

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It only took Michael and Elena a few short moments to wrestle Todd to the ground and tickle him until he was breathless. Of course, they then had to defend themselves against the hordes of Grayson children who launched attacks of their own. Megan was fully prepared to go to Michael's defense (Elena wasn't recovering from a near-fatal rash of arrow wounds after all), but Faith's wiry little arms were tight around her waist. And since she didn't fancy dragging the munchkin all over the place. . .she stayed put. Besides, it was hardly necessary, as Toby and Leah were separating their little (and not-so-little) darlings from Michael and Elena. Megan's long-time friend looked somewhat worse for wear than Michael did, no doubt because of the wedgie she had given Todd (on the other hand, it also could be argued it was the least Todd deserved after ogling Elena).

That, and the youngsters were far more careful with Michael, thanks to his healing wounds. Even so, he was lying at the bottom of the impromptu doggie pile, trying not to wince as Toby helped him to his feet. She did a quick, cursory check. . .he was a bit stiff, but didn't seem to be in any real pain. That, however, wasn't good enough for Leah, who fussed over him and instructed him to rest once they reached the shelter. Michael was on the point of assuring her friend that he was quite capable of helping the others, but Leah used her best 'mommy glare' on him and he fell silent, looking rather abashed. The aforementioned 'mommy glare' was turned next on Faith, who released Megan, albeit reluctantly.

"Todd, you look after Faith, so Megan can look after Michael. . .now, no arguments, either of you. You don't want Michael to have a relapse, do you, Todd? And Michael, I mean it, you need to rest. It isn't just the injury that has me worried, but also the blood loss. I doubt if your body is finished making up the difference. I would imagine you still tire easily," Leah said, overriding anything Michael might have said under the circumstances. He could only nod, somewhat sheepishly. Megan was eyeing her cousin with some trepidation, wondering what was. . .oh. That explained everything. Leah winked at her. Well, she supposed she really couldn't blame the other woman.

"Okay, what in the hell is going on?" Elena hissed, joining Megan along with Michael, as she picked the last of the leaves out of her hair, and dusted off her clothes. Megan merely raised an eyebrow curiously. . .her reward was Elena swearing at her in Spanish, and maybe French as well. Their high school only offered Latin, French, and Spanish, and since Elena already spoke Spanish, she chose to take French as her second language (Megan, for her own reasons, chose Latin).

"Leah is playing matchmaker," Megan told her in an undertone when Elena ran out of steam. She had the distinct pleasure of seeing her friend's eyes widen and mouth form '_Wow_.' The slightly shorter detective nodded, murmuring, "Ye-up. It would seem that since I've never brought a man out here, that's reason enough for her. Oh, she knows that he's recovering, but. . ." Elena nodded, stealing a glance at Michael, who seemed to be paying no attention to their conversation (and she hoped that he truly wasn't. They hadn't yet explained to him about matchmakers, and she wasn't ready to do so).

"Well, I can kinda see her point. . .you two would make a cute couple, but now's not the time," Elena replied. Megan blinked at her in surprise, and Elena rolled her eyes, muttering, "Oh, come on, Megan! I know for a fact that you're a lot more observant than you let on! In the first place, I've seen the way he looks at you. In the second place, you fit right into his arms. In the third place, you two would make adorable kids, and in the fourth place, I've seen the way he looks at you!"

"You said that already," Megan pointed out, quite reasonably, and Elena rolled her eyes. While Megan was more than willing to acknowledge she did derive enjoyment out of annoying her best friend (it was, after all, one of the key components of being friends. . . driving each other crazy), in this case, that wasn't her object. After a moment, she continued, "Besides, Michael's still pretty inexperienced with. . .everything. Maybe as he meets more people, things will change." She kept her feelings on the subject to herself, in a large degree because she wasn't entirely sure what they were.

"Well, I hope he doesn't change his mind. It's about time something, someone good, came your way. I still haven't forgiven Marc Dupre for that stunt he pulled in sophomore year. I don't care if it was part of a friggin' bet. . .you didn't deserve that," Elena growled. Megan cringed. She preferred not to think about that time of her life. Regardless of what she was told through the years, there was no way she would ever regard high school as 'the best years of her life.' Nope. Not happening.

But. . . For the first time in at least fifteen years, she thought of the prank played on Marc at the end of that year, and looked at her best friend curiously. By the end of their freshman year, it was fairly well known that Elena was venomously protective of her new friend. . .and she was willing to play dirty. She wouldn't ask Elena if she took part in that prank against Marc. . .but she would find the answer from someone else. Instead, she said softly, "And what about you? You've kissed your share of frogs. . .more than your fair share! I'd say it's about time you met your prince as well."

"There's a difference, Meg. . .I've been involved with at least a few decent guys. You, on the other hand, have encountered only frogs. Just for once, I'd like you to meet a prince. . .and if he happens to be as cute as Michael, that's perfectly acceptable to me!" Elena retorted. Well. . .Megan couldn't argue with that. Cal didn't count among the frogs, because just being friends with him was more than enough. She had a serious crush on Marc Dupre from the moment the young man from Baton Rouge arrived in her World History class, because she thought he was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen. He had grown into a good man, but at the time, he was an arrogant little jackass. Even he said so now.

"Just. . .give him time, okay? I don't want him to feel obligated to me. I mean, I know he will, but if things play out the way you want, I want it to be because he actually has feelings for me," Megan finally told her friend. Michael had left her side moments earlier as he recovered his breath, and was now carrying Faith on his back in a piggyback. She smiled faintly, listening to his laughter as Faith told her knock-knock jokes, and added, "I gotta admit. . .he would most likely make a wonderful daddy."

Elena slid her arm around her shoulders, saying softly, "Of course he will, just like you will make an outstanding mother. Mama says it all the time, 'when _is my other daughter going to marry that darling man and give me more grandbabies_.' She does so! She thinks you'll be a wonderful mom, and Michael a terrific dad, and she's right. Mama accepted a long time ago that even if I marry, I probably won't have children. I don't have the patience for it."

Megan was silent for several moments as they walked to the shelter, trying to decide the best way to respond to her friend. On the one hand, she knew that when it was your child, it was much easier to be patient, often finding as-yet untapped reservoirs when you thought your own was about to run out (she learned that from listening to both Gavin and Carey). On the other hand, she also understood the source of Elena's wariness. She loved the children of her siblings, absolutely adored them. But she had seen what parents could do to their children, heard the reasons for their snapping, and feared her own temper, feared her own lack of patience. . .feared hurting her own children the same way.

In the end, she recognized, there was nothing she could say. Instead, she slipped her arm around Elena's waist in a one-armed hug that said everything that she wanted to say, including, '_you'll be fine_' and '_I will always believe you_.' Elena's own arm tightened around her shoulders, and the two friends walked in silence toward the shelter.

For the first time, she focused on something Toby had said, a throwaway comment, and asked, "Just out of curiosity, do you happen to know if they've gotten the necessary approvals from all the officials? I know they're putting in electricity and water and such, but couldn't remember if. . ." Elena nodded, and Megan relaxed. Toby and Leah were family, and you looked after family. If they hadn't already received the proper permits, she would have called Mayor Farrell to see if there was anything she could do to help. (And could just see in her mind's eye the way his eyes twinkled as he asked, '_you mean aside from what you're already doing_?' Oh yeah. That was _exactly_ what he would say).

"Yeah, that's already been handled. Mayor Farrell has been here at least two or three times, and he reminded Toby to get to work on the permits," Elena replied and Megan relaxed further. Good. That was good. If Mayor Farrell was working with them on this (which of course he was), then they were in good hands. Elena's hand tightened on her arm, and she murmured, "Now into the bowels of the earth we go. Ah. So she saw. Elena added softly, "Don't worry, they have cement stairs, rather than a ladder." Well, that was good to know. . .especially as she watched Michael descend into the shelter, holding Faith's hand. She smiled. . .yes, he really would make a very good daddy.

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As a teenager, Elena was forced to read the works of Arthur Conan Doyle, in the same way she was forced to read Shakespeare and Hemingway. She hadn't liked any of the three, but that was life. In one of Doyle's Sherlock Holmes books (and the name escaped her at the moment, which showed just how much she disliked them), Holmes told his friend and associate, Dr. John Watson, that he had the rare gift of silence. Megan had that same gift, though in her case, it wasn't simply keeping silent while Elena worked out something in her head, but also understanding when not to say anything.

For instance, during their conversation about becoming parents, Meg hadn't told Elena what she was clearly thinking. . .that when she had a child of her own, she would _find_ the patience. And for that, Elena was deeply grateful. There were the issues which Meg knew. . .her fear that she wouldn't be strong enough to rein in her temper when the child pushed her. But there was more. Police officers died in the line of duty. Oh yes, young mothers died often enough. But as a police officer, her risk of dying before her child reached his/her majority increased.

And she knew that the loss of a father caused issues, but. . ._she_ wouldn't be a father. She would be a mother, who would carry that child within her for nine months, and then go through hours of labor, before raising the little one. It was different. Not superior, but different, and it broke her heart to think of her child growing up without a mother. And so, her next words were, "Meg. . .if I had a child, and something were to happen to me, would you raise that child?" Meg looked at her, somewhat startled, and Elena went on, "It isn't that I'm thinking of becoming a mother, but stranger things have been known to happen. If I am. . .will you promise to take care of that child, if something were to happen to me? We're cops, Meg, and. . ." She trailed off, not because they were both aware of the possibilities, but because her best friend covered her mouth with her hand. Once she was sure she had Elena's full and undivided attention, Meg took her hand away.

"I promise, even if it is redundant. I would have done it, even if you hadn't asked," her friend said quietly. She smiled then, and added, "Just as I know you would do the same for me. Most likely with a lot of fussing from my mother and quiet support from my father." Elena almost snorted at that, because she was right. Ailsa would want to raise her grandchild, but Francis would remind her that they weren't young any more and the best way to honor Megan was to support Elena. And then she shuddered at the thought of losing her best friend. The same way Meg was shuddering now at the same idea.

"You know, you would be in the exact same position, were the roles reversed," Elena pointed out, once she could rid her mind of that horrifying notion. Megan thought about that for a moment, and then cringed. That made Elena laugh, chasing the last of her fears away. Much as Elena's mother Soledad loved Megan, it would still be her grandchild whom Megan would be raising. Elena said, "I suppose the only hope would be to make sure we stay alive, so neither of us find ourselves in that situation." Megan emphatically nodded her agreement. Elena supposed it was a morbid conversation to have on such a gorgeous spring day, but it was necessary in their line of work.

It was their turn to descend into the shelter, which they did hand-in-hand. Of course, as soon as he saw them, Toby had to start teasing them. Honestly, he was like an overgrown teenager at times! Her eyes met Leah's, and the older woman just shook her head in amusement. As they reached the bottom step, Michael moved to Megan's side, reminding Elena of a little boy seeking his older sister's protection. Although, in this case, it was more likely that he simply did not like having Megan out of his sight if they were in the same building. Elena didn't think it was being clingy, so much, as being unable to protect her if he couldn't see her. It was a well-established fact that Michael was very protective of all three girls. . .Megan, Elena, and Kristin.

Megan smiled up at Michael, and Elena wondered what it would take before her friend took his attentions seriously. It wasn't that she brushed him off. . . rather, she didn't think he knew enough women to have feelings for her. Which was pure silliness, but that was Megan for you, at least sometimes. Elena could appreciate Megan's desire to give Michael the opportunity to find someone else, but she had the sneaking suspicion he didn't want anyone else. While Megan was at work, Gavin took Michael around town. All around the town, as the song went.

So, absolutely yes. He had met other women since their arrival in Campbell (some of them either the same age as Megan and Elena or younger), and while at least some of his feelings were of gratitude, there was far more to it, and him, than that. She felt a bit silly, trying to match-make for her friend and the mysterious stranger, but dammit, she wanted Meg to be happy, she wanted Michael to be happy, and if they were happy together, that was even better!

Toby cleared his throat and glared at her. Elena just folded her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows, tapping her foot. At her side, she felt, more than heard, Megan laughing. Again, Toby cleared his throat and began, "To everyone who hasn't been in here yet. . .this looks to be the basement of a house that was never finished. I've been talking to Tom Farrell, and his mother has said that there was a family who lived out this way who bought this land just prior to the Stock Market Crash of 1929. I better not have to tell anyone what significance that was. Alright, anyone aside from Michael!"

"And explaining it to Michael can wait until later," the young man in question said, "I have a feeling from Meg's expression, it will take some time." Elena beamed at Michael. She knew she liked him for a reason. He blushed and ducked his head, but she could see his shy smile. Toby cleared his throat again, and Michael's head came up, allowing Elena to see his mischievous expression. She bit back her own smile. . .it wouldn't do to let Toby know what was coming, after all. Michael added, the very picture of innocence, "And shouldn't you have a doctor look at that cough?"

Both Elena and Megan burst out laughing, not just at Michael's sassy response, but at Toby's expression. He blinked several times, and then turned his glare on Megan, saying, "You do realize you'll pay for that later." Megan merely smirked at him, shrugging as if to say, '_why are you blaming me_?' He evidently got the point, as he stared at her hard. . .and then grinned. Toby finally said, "You're absolutely right. I know who's to blame. . .your cousin Gavin!"

"Finish your presentation now, worry about avenging yourself on Gavin later, Tobias," Leah sighed, sounding as if this was a regular occurrence in this family. Then again, knowing Toby, that was more than likely. Leah rolled her eyes, shaking her head, and muttering under her breath about foolish men and foolish grudges, and she already had one overgrown boy under her roof, she really didn't need another. By this time, of course, Elena had heard the story about Leah's idiot baby brother attacking Michael.

"Yes, dear," Toby said meekly, nearly surprising another laugh out of Megan. He glared at her again, and then explained, "In any event, after a time, this was abandoned and forgotten, passing from owner to owner. It looks like we're the first people in probably sixty or seventy years to use this. And we _will_ use this. If we need a shelter while we're out here, we've got it. For that reason, anyone who works in this area will start carrying a direct connect. . .the last thing we want is for anyone caught unaware. Now, here's the important thing. . .this is a family secret. We do not want just anyone using this shelter. I don't need to tell anyone about the issues posed by meth labs."

"Daddy, can we use it as a playhouse?" Faith asked. She parked herself behind Megan, wrapping her arms around her hips and pressing her face against Megan's waist. Toby's face took on a slightly panicked look. Funny. As the day progressed, that kept happening. Leah whispered something to the effect that they would talk about that later. That was something else that kept happening. . .on the other hand, Elena expected that out of a parent.

On the other hand, she _really_ hoped she was around to hear whatever Leah and Toby decided with regards to the playhouse! That promised to be quite. . . entertaining.

BBBBBBBB

Across town, there was another parent-child conversation taking place. . .sort of. At eight am that morning, while his wife was fixing breakfast and his granddaughter was sound asleep (he had a granddaughter now!), Francis Rafferty offered to show his daughter Carey around Campbell. He knew that Megan would be heading to the Grayson farm to help out, and to distract his wife from her unease with Carey, he decided this was a good time for a quiet, father-daughter drive. During the morning, he pointed out various spots of interest in town. . .not historical markers, but points of interest like the school that Megan and Kristin attended, their church.

They stopped for lunch at a Ruby Tuesday, where they talked about Carey's thoughts on the town where her father spent the last thirty-five years of his life, as well as the town in Canada where he spent the first twenty years. But after returning to the car, conversation started to die and the silence became awkward. For the last hour, the only real conversation was about the various landmarks he was pointing out, landmarks that had to do with the actual history of the town. Finally, after passing the old movie theatre where Francis had proposed to Ailsa, Carey finally mentioned what was really troubling her.

"Your wife doesn't like me, you know."

Francis didn't take his eyes from the road, though he heard her statement very clearly. It was just. . .trying to answer that statement was complicated. After a moment, he chose the truth. . .from a certain point of view, and mentally thanked Whoever was listening that his wife wasn't there to hear him. He explained, "She isn't comfortable with you, Carey, there's a difference. She isn't comfortable with you, she isn't comfortable with how vague you are about your job, and she _really_ isn't comfortable about your habit of looking at Meggie as if she was about to disappear. Now, I'm quite sure that you have your own reasons for all of that. . .but I also know my wife, and I know that as long as those factors are in play, she'll continue to be wary of you."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Carey nodding her understanding of these facts. No doubt, Ailsa thought she was being discreet in her concerns, but Francis knew her too well. For that matter, he had known her mother entirely too well. Carey said softly, "I suppose I do look at Megan as if I'm afraid she'll disappear. . .because that's what I'm afraid of. She's in a dangerous line of work, and I'm just now getting to know my little sister. . .the little sister I've ached to know ever since I learned that I had one. And, I know my reticence alarms all of you. . .except maybe Megan, but she's got her hands full just with the town and taking care of Michael. But the less you know, the safer you all are. You're familiar with the term, 'plausible deniability,' right?" Of course he was. Carey went on, "That's what I mean. The less you know, the better it is for everyone."

"Seems like I've heard that before, Charlotte Amalie. . .and each and every time, it's hurt the people it's meant to protect. Now, I'm not asking you to tell me if you're not comfortable with talking about that part of your life. I may be your father, but I'm also still something of a stranger to you. Just. . .be careful when you say you're protecting people. Just remember that," Francis replied. Carey was silent for several moments, and Francis chose not to interrupt that silence. He was still learning about this daughter, for she wasn't like Megan or Kristin, for all that she shared his blood and Kristin did not. He had raised Kristin, however, and knew only about Carey in a distant way.

It had occurred to him, once, to lament that his two eldest children were lost to him. . . until the memories of Denethor returned to taunt him. Given the burden he had placed on one child and his near-murder of the other, maybe he didn't have the right to complain about losing _any_ of his children. The first time he had dreamed about Denethor's funeral pyre and nearly killing Faramir, Francis was sick for the rest of the night. No. . .no, he would not complain about losing any of his children.

Besides, Gavin wasn't really lost to him. . .more importantly, he was protected from the woman who given birth to him while he was growing up. And Carey wasn't lost to him, either. . .she was here now, and she brought her daughter, his granddaughter, with her. That was the important thing. Carey said softly, "I know. For a long time, my mother wouldn't tell me about you, saying that she was protecting me. I was afraid, did you know that? I was afraid that my father was a monster, and that was why she wouldn't tell me anything about you. Turns out, the only thing she was protecting me from was the knowledge that my father had been a young man with more libido than sense. Please. I found out when I was fourteen about young men with libidos!"

Francis snorted at this, because she was right. He was a young man during the 1960's and he was damn lucky he hadn't picked up an STD or worse as a result of his inability to keep it in his pants. More than that, young men were young men, no matter what the era. Carey continued, "That's nothing to be afraid of, not as a daughter wanting to know about her father. And unlike my daughter's father, you were never less than honest with my mother. . .you certainly didn't tell her that you were single, when you had a wife who thought she had a happy marriage." There was more than a touch of bitterness in her voice, and Francis ached for her, and for Gemma. That explained, then, why Gemma carried her mother's last name, rather than her father's.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, "every father wants to believe their child is happy." Well, maybe not every father, but every father worth his salt. Carey shook her head, but even Francis could see she was biting her lip. The betrayal of Gemma's father cut her deeply, even now. He continued, "So that's why you introduced Gemma as a Rafferty, rather than by her father's last name. Does his wife still believe that her husband is faithful, or did you disabuse her of that notion?"

"No, she found out about another of his affairs when Gemma was five. They've been 'working through' their issues for the last seven years, and apparently, she made it a condition of their couples' therapy that Gemma would spend time with her father. She's a good woman. . .certainly better than he deserves. And she's definitely been kinder to me than I deserve. She's forgiven me, a hundred times over, keeps reminding me that I believed he was single. But. . . somehow forgiving myself is much harder. And now that he's chickened out of yet _another_ visit with Gemma, I have a feeling she'll leave him," Carey replied. Interesting. Very interesting.

But he only told his daughter, "I imagine the fact that she's a good woman, who understands you were working with faulty information, makes it harder to forgive yourself." Carey looked at him quickly, as he added, "That's the way it, sweeting. We can forgive ourselves more readily for hurting another person when they're unkind or selfish. But when we hurt someone who has forgiven us, someone who shows compassion, self-forgiveness becomes much harder."

"So I've noticed," Carey sighed. Francis just smiled compassionately, and a moment later, his eldest daughter asked, "What can you tell me about this guy whom Michael and Megan and Elena are helping today? All I understood at dinner last night was that his wife is a cousin of Ailsa's and they take in at-risk/underprivileged children on their farm, but everything else was kind of lost." Francis' smile changed from compassionate to amused. . .not at his daughter's question, but at her honesty.

"His name is Toby Grayson. . .and like you said, his wife Leah is one of Ailsa's more distant cousins. They've been taking in children for almost as long as they've been married," Francis explained. Carey arched an eyebrow at him questioningly, and he went on, "Toby was one of those kids, once upon a time. Someone took him under his wing, and I guess he decided at an early age that he would save as many kids as he could. And people helped him out. . .they still help him out, but in different ways now. Back then, one of his adoptive family members left him some money and that farm. Funny thing is, he married Leah. . .whose family is known for taking in foster kids as well. But he only had eyes for 'the prettiest girl in the county,' as he's always called her."

Carey smiled almost sadly and murmured, "Sounds like fun. And the girls help them out around the farm?" Francis nodded, wondering if Carey would figure out the why of it. A moment later, he grinned when she added, "They're making themselves known to the kids, giving them someone in the department to trust. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. A helluva lot less painful, too." And not for the first time, Francis wondered just how familiar his oldest daughter was with that pound of cure.

"Yes, that's something my wife's mother always used to say as well. I won't lie to you, Carey, I do worry about Megan. How can I not? You never stop worrying about your child. But one thing I always keep in mind, and this may be something that eases your worries as well: Megan has been trained to defend herself, her partner, and this town. Aside from Gavin, she is probably the best prepared out of all of us. Remember, daughter mine. . .an ounce of prevention. That doesn't just apply to saving children from themselves. It also applies to police officers, soldiers, Marines, and airmen learning to defend themselves."

"You forgot the SEALS, the Coast Guard, and SWAT," Carey pointed out. Francis glared at her as best as he could, and still keep his eyes on the road. But his quivering lips betrayed his amusement, and Carey giggled, sounding closer to her daughter's age than her actual thirty-seven years. Francis removed one of his hands from the steering wheel and took Carey's left hand. She glanced down at their joined hands, smiled a little, but never removed it. He had no idea if his eldest daughter would ever find the courage she needed to tell them what she really did for a living. . .but it was early yet. They were still getting to know each other, this parent and this child.


	7. Epilogue: Full Circle

Author's Notes: And here we have the finale of _Champions: An Ounce of Prevention_! As I promised, Boromir is starting to make decisions about what comes next. Never underestimate the power of baby steps. Also as I promised, there will be a complete, updated cast list. I hope to have the next story up by the end of August, while I get other stories updated (including one that's crucial to the 'Sauron's minions seriously screw up' story). In the meantime, enjoy the epilogue!

Epilogue

Full Circle

"So. . .are you glad we came?"

They were headed home after several hours with the Grayson family. Michael was in danger of dozing off. . .a new CD was in the player, someone named 'Loreena McKennitt.' Thus, her question had the welcome effect of awakening him. He shook himself and replied, "Very glad. . . although, do you mind if I shower first when we get back to the apartment?" They were having dinner at the Rafferty house again tonight, and Michael needed the shower not just to clean up. . .but to ease his sore muscles.

"Not at all. . .I have some calls to make, and can get my shower after you finish with yours. That reminds me, did you want me to get more of that new soap the next time I go shopping?" Meg asked. Michael nodded, suppressing a wince. They had some trouble finding a soap that didn't irritate his skin. For some reason, that just sounded wrong to him, but Meg pointed out that one could have skin allergies just as easily as medicinal allergies. When she worked as a receptionist at the service center, one of her female co-workers had medicinal and skin allergies, among others.

"Yes, that soap has worked the best. Thank you for insisting on trying something new," he said. Michael tried to force himself to acclimate to this particular brand of soap, but Meg told him that there would be enough discomfort as the spring turned to summer, and it simply wasn't worth it to make himself more uncomfortable. It was then that she mentioned her former co-worker, adding that it was possible he was allergic to something in the soap. That was sufficient for him, and she gave the soap to their neighbor, Mrs. Watkins, for the next time her grandson Cal visited (after reassuring Michael that it was a type of soap Cal often used).

"You're welcome. Listen. . .I know you've been bored. No, don't look embarrassed, it's to be expected. I think you've read just about every book I own, and you've done an outstanding job with the laundry and acclimating to the internet. Would you like Gavin to take you to the Graysons a few times a week to help them out?" Meg suggested. Michael sat up a little straighter in his seat, staring hopefully at his friend. Could he? He had, as she said, read all of the books in their apartment (including the ones that he would never admit to reading), and even some Mrs. Watkins loaned to them. But he dearly missed doing physical work.

"You wouldn't mind?" he asked hopefully. And really, he didn't care if that longing was obvious in his voice. He missed working as he did today. While large blocks of his memory remained behind lock and key, Michael was becoming more and more certain that Gavin was right. He had been a soldier at one time. . . the instincts remained, even when the memory was gone. And while he couldn't say for certain, he was reasonably certain had been a good soldier. . .if he was bad at it, he would now be dead.

"Michael, I made the suggestion, of course I don't mind. In fact, I think you could do a lot of good. By the end of the day tomorrow, the entire town will be talking about how you took Leah's brother down a few blocks. I wasn't there, but from what the others told me, maybe you should think about teaching others to protect themselves. See how it goes with the Grayson kids first, and if you feel comfortable with it, talk with Captain Anders. Like I said, I know you've been bored. The only thing I ask is that you be careful. . .you are still healing, and as much as I enjoy Ronan's company, I really don't want to be seeing him on a professional basis," Meg replied, surprising a laugh out of Michael.

"No, I don't think he would appreciate anything that takes his attention away from Dr. Trask!" he replied, chortling, and Meg laughed aloud. It had taken him very few visits with his first new friend to realize that despite his repeated protests that his relationship with Elly Trask was _strictly_ professional, Ronan was very much attracted to the beautiful coroner. Or. . .what was it that Meg sometimes called her? Forensics examiner? He thought that was correct. Regardless of what she was called, Ronan's stubbornness where the lady was concerned quite exasperated Meg, who was of the opinion that the pair liked each other, and that was all that mattered. He didn't understand what else might matter, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Not at all. Anyhow. . .I'll talk to Gavin tonight after dinner, set up a schedule so that he can take you to the farm if I'm not available. And you talk to him about what kinds of things you should teach the kids in terms of self-defense. Like Toby said, even if something just buys those kids time, it's going to be worth it. We can't be everywhere, Michael, no matter how much we want to be. You would be a huge help to us, I think," Meg replied. Well. That settled that. If he could be of assistance to Meg, even by teaching children to protect themselves, then that was what he would do. He didn't know enough about her work as a police detective, despite the shows he watched while Gavin was at the apartment (which grew to include _Nash Bridges_, which starred the same actor who played Crockett in the first detective series he watched).

He knew that as a police officer, it was her job to protect and defend the people of this town. As a police detective, she investigated the crimes committed within the town of Campbell as well as the immediate outskirts. There was nothing he could do to assist in the investigation of those crimes, but he could try to lighten the load she and Elena, along with the other police officers, carried. In addition, he remembered more of his past, if only in terms of his instincts, while he was working at the Grayson farm today. It seemed likely to him that if he continued to work with them as a self-defense instructor, more of those memories would return. . .and the more use he would be to the people who had cared for him and protected him these last few months. Besides. It made Meg smile. . . and that was always a blessing for him.

He had heard them say, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. That was what she was doing when she helped at the farm. . .it was what he would be doing, once he began to assist as well. Michael wasn't entirely certain what that pound of cure entailed; however, he felt quite certain it would be nothing pleasant.

Such things rarely were.

BBBBBBBB

Charlotte Amalie Rafferty sat up in bed, staring through the window in the room provided to her and her daughter in her father's house. Gemma had fallen asleep hours earlier, just after her normal bedtime of nine pm. Carey's father and step-mother were also in bed, while her sister and Michael had returned to their apartment, along with Gavin (whom she had a sneaking suspicion was actually her brother, rather than her cousin, but she would wait for her father to confirm that for her. Especially since she was quite sure neither of her sisters had any idea). That particular trio had stayed for a few hours after dinner, but both Michael and Megan were exhausted from their work of that day. As they left, Carey heard Michael mumble under his breath about getting another shower for his muscles.

And dinner had been good, but she had come to expect that in the time she had been staying here. . .her father's wife was a good cook. Better than Carey, not that this took a great deal of effort. And if conversation at dinner was a touch stilted, thanks to her step-mother's continuing unease with Carey, few people would have noticed, given the input of not only Megan and Michael, who happily told them about the occurrences at the Grayson farm today, but also Gemma. Upon returning to the house with her father earlier that afternoon, Carey discovered that her daughter had accompanied her grandmother on a tour of the town. . .complete with a man toting a literal blow-up doll in the back of his pick-up.

That revelation had both Megan and Michael choking and gasping, as they were in the midst of swallowing their food when Gemma explained what happened. After they successfully got the food down, Megan was laughing so hard, Carey was afraid her sister would fall out of the chair. . .however, Michael's hand around her arm kept her upright. Once she was calm enough to speak without collapsing into giggles every few seconds, she relayed a story of her own. . .one that made poor Michael blush. It seemed that Mrs. Grayson had a younger brother, who was no more than twenty-five or so, and. . .well, he was a young man, with a young man's attitude. He evidently attempted to attack Michael. . .but the amnesiac wasn't so easy to take off guard.

It was during that conversation that Carey learned of the request made to Michael, to teach the Grayson children at least some self-defense. The entire Rafferty family thought this was a wonderful idea, including Carey herself. Megan added something that she evidently mentioned to Michael in the car, that even if what he taught them bought time, it would be a huge help. Carey couldn't help but agree. According to a text she received that morning, before her father offered to take her on a tour of the town, Renata's parents agreed to her request for self-defense lessons. Maybe it wouldn't prevent her from being victimized again. . .but Renata was refusing to be a victim. She was fighting back, the only way she had available to her right now. The avenger seriously doubted if it would mean anything to the girl, but Carey was proud of her.

She was, in some ways, much like Megan's friend Elena, who went out to the Grayson farm today to help as well. Elena's grandfather had been murdered when she was a girl, setting her on the path to become a cop. Carey wished she could tell her sister this, but that was out of the question at the moment. Maybe in time, when she got to know Megan better, she could give her sister a watered-down version. But anything more than that wasn't possible. She could not put her sister into the position of possibly having to arrest her. That would be unspeakably cruel.

Yet, she knew her father was right. . .trying to protect people from the truth often backfired, and brought up the issue. Who was she trying to protect, her sister. . .or herself? Carey smiled without much humor and decided that there were times when you couldn't decide if it was one thing or the other, that it could, in fact, be both. This was one of those times. She didn't want to put her sister into a position where she had to arrest her. . .and she didn't want to be arrested. In the morning, before everyone else was up, she would make the call requesting that she not be given any assignments within a seventy-five mile radius of Raleigh. When she explained her reasoning, she was confident her request would be granted. It was policy not to carry out an assignment in the vicinity of a law enforcement conference. . .that, and simple common sense, not unless you wanted to get caught.

Yes. . .yes, she would do that in the morning. Carey looked away from the moon, which she could see through the window, and back at her daughter. Gemma was sound asleep, arms curled around a stuffed bear which her aunt Megan had given to her on their first night here. Maybe it was childish, but Gemma had taken the gift in the spirit it was meant, and then hugged the breath out of her newly found aunt. Gemma had her face pressed into Megan's shoulder, so she didn't see the young detective's expression. Carey had, and the hope and fear that tensed her muscles gave way to affection and relief. Megan had been afraid that Gemma would reject her gift as childish. Carey could have told the younger woman that Gemma was raised better than that, but it wouldn't have made a difference. This was something that had to be shown.

Just like she couldn't tell Megan that Michael was developing very serious feelings for her. Her sister was aware, on some level, but because Michael remembered little of his past (just images, more than anything else, he had admitted to her when she asked), she was cautious about accepting his affection for her. Carey didn't blame her. For all she knew, Michael could have a wife. . .and there were worse possibilities than that. Further, Megan had a good point about the world outside their apartment. . .to say nothing of his obvious gratitude toward her, Elena, and Carey's youngest sister. At the same time, Carey had a feeling that Michael would be steadfast in his affection for Megan. But that was between them, and unless she thought her sister was in danger of being hurt (or acting like a complete idiot), she would stay out of it. There were enough people interfering in her life. . .Carey would not add herself to it.

Which brought her to her stepmother. Regardless of her wariness toward Carey, Ailsa had been a good wife to Carey's father, had accepted her daughter without question, and behaved like a mama grizzly where her own girls were concerned. Carey could certainly respect that. . .along with the reason for her step-mother's wariness. After her talk with her father about his wife and Carey's own reticence, she was silent for a long time. She had to think over what she had been told. As yet, she hadn't made any decisions, aside from the one about not accepting any jobs in this area.

That, however, wasn't the point. Her father was right about his wife, and she knew it. He was right about everything else, but so was she. She could not take the chance of them learning at this stage what she did for a living. . .not just for her own sake, but for theirs. She had no way of knowing what would happen if a member of her family learned the truth, and her bosses found out. Moreover, Carey had no desire to find out. No. No, she would live with Ailsa's wariness for now. Maybe, after she knew her better, she would tell her a little more. But for now, this was the right thing to do, not just for herself, but for her family as well.

There was another factor in play here. Carey was thirty-seven years old, and she was reaching a point where it was time to quit. When she was recruited more than a decade earlier, she asked what would happen when she left. She anticipated anything but the amused smile on the face of the woman who made such decisions, especially when the woman answered, "Then you leave. When you came to work for us, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. I won't insult your intelligence by explaining further, but I will tell you that the 'non-disclosure' part applies more to names and places than anything else. You're only a human being, Miss Rafferty. Sooner or later, you'll meet someone you honestly can trust, and when you do, you'll want to tell them about your past. We understand that. But you may not tell them any names or places or methods. We don't want to re-enact the Jason Bourne novels, and nor do you."

That had made her laugh, though she understood exactly what the other woman meant. Back then, the idea of leaving was a vague possibility. . .but what she hadn't understood then was the price that came from taking the lives of others, no matter how bad, no matter how evil, they were. She was starting to feel as if she was losing herself. . .and while she didn't really care about that, she did care about how her occupation would end up hurting her daughter. Gemma deserved to have a whole person as a mother.

Even so, when she had a few spare minutes tomorrow, she would teach Gemma few moves she had learned along the way. Maybe see if Michael was available to help out as well. It was something she should have done a long time ago, but it was far from too late. It would only be too late when her baby girl was lying on a slab on a morgue or weeping on a hospital bed while a rape kit was administered. Yes. Tomorrow she would ask Michael to teach her Gemma what he could. It would be good practice for him. She had the feeling he was a protector. And as Carey settled into her bed, she remembered again what she told herself a few weeks earlier as she watched Renata's attacker die. . .an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure. She would _not_ have her daughter pay that pound of cure.

Here ends _Champions: An Ounce of Prevention_. In the coming weeks will debut the next story, a one or two shot, tentatively titled, _Champions: This Town's Worth_ (but that's subject to change).

Cast list as of the end of _Champions: An Ounce of Prevention; _reincarnations indicated out to the side. Not all characters mentioned have cast.

Boromir/Michael: Sean Bean

Detective Megan Rafferty: Dana Barron

Detective Elena Gutierrez: Patricia Velazquez

Kristin Rafferty: Grace Park

Detective Christine Madsen: Katee Sackhoff (Raleigh PD)

Detective Charles Aubrey: Morgan Freeman (Raleigh PD)

Dalton Robeson: Eric Close

Francis Rafferty: Daniel Pilon

Ailsa Rafferty: Louise Sorel

Captain Lydia Anders: Gwynyth Walsh

Mayor Thomas Farrell/Sergeant Richard Dennison: Tim Dunigan

Brendan Farrell (reincarnation of Frodo Baggins): Elijah Wood

Dr. Arabella 'Elly' Trask: Robbi Chong

Pelagia (demi-goddess responsible for Boromir's second chance): Monika Schnarre

Elrohir/Elladan: Angel Ortiz

Elrond: Hugo Weaving

Celeborn: Marton Csokas

Gavin Rafferty (USMC retired/reincarnation of Aragorn): Ted King

Legolas Thranduilion: Orlando Bloom

Dr. Ronan Daly (reincarnation of Gimli): John Rhys-Davies

Haldir: Craig Parker

Galadriel: Cate Blanchett

Celebrian: Kristin Lehman

Finduilas (flashbacks): Laurie Holden

Gandalf: Ian McKellen

Regine Dennison Farrell: Constance Towers

Bronwyn Harris (reincarnation of Arwen): Robin Christopher

Boadicca (Pelagia's sister): Helen Shaver

Valkyrie (Pelagia's sister): Emilie de Ravin

James Norrington/Jamie Norris: Jack Davenport

Gabriel Wainwright (reincarnation of Grima Wormtongue): Brad Dourif

Damaris: Holly Marie Coombs

Callum Watkins: Josh Holloway

David Watkins: Michael Emerson (Raleigh extended-stay owner)

Officer Logan Garvey: Matthew Goode

Madelyn Garvey: Beth Riesgraf

Lucius Wellington (reincarnation of Saruman): Christopher Lee

Jason Wellington: Richard Armitage

Natalie Wellington: Kali Rodriguez

Charlotte Amalie 'Carey' Rafferty: Michelle Forbes

Genevieve Monica 'Gemma' Rafferty: Rachel Covey

Cameron Gillespie (reincarnation of Pippin Took): Billy Boyd

Toby Grayson: Dale Midkiff

Leah Grayson: Teryl Rothery


End file.
